MONSOON

You, across the room with rain
for teeth. I check my watch,

my age, reconsider the word
drown, send you a drink as if

I can rename the ocean,
as if someone will cast

a life vest out after I sleep
with you. Pour one on me.

Another after love spills
from your lips. Another

after we rip back the dirt,
heel dig ourselves a landslide

that‘ll require years of lies
and therapy to press the sheets

clean. No, I don’t mean forever,
I’ve drank from the deep well

of infinity and only need
just enough water to end this

thirst for a month, remind me
what well watered lawns

of my youth feel like.

 

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John Andrews’ work has appeared in Redivider, The Boiler, Columbia Poetry Review, and others. His first book Colin is Changing His Name is forthcoming from Sibling Rivalry Press in the June 2017, and it was a finalist for the 2015 Moon City Poetry Award. He holds an MFA from Texas State University and currently he is working on his PhD in English at Oklahoma State University, where he serves as an associate editor for the Cimarron Review.