welcome home
pizza-man asks
“where ya been man? it’s been
like ten fucking years”
i tell him: “i just moved back”
a button is pushed on the register
“that’s $6.50 brother,
welcome home.”
poem for the one i can’t have
& then she’s gone
& the bar closes soon
& the moon is 2/3 full
& i continue to drink on
as if drinking more could
possibly bring her back
& i struggle writing this poem
beneath buzzing lights that
sound like 2037 swarming bees
& when tomorrow morning arrives
beneath the red rising sun
i will wake alone.
sunfed
sunlight comes through
opened curtains,
autumn breezes through
cracked windows.
we read our books,
and listen to songbirds,
and speak nothing.
between our love the cat walks.
we deserve this.
this we deserve.
it’s time.
Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, zines, and online publications. He has published 13 chapbooks. He runs Between Shadows Press.
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