newarkwriterscollective:

Everyone i know is building

& filling their house while i keep

Licking paint onto my fingernails.

The work of adulthood

Is dubious. Their children

Are beautiful & lack debt.

As friday clamors on inside

Its calendrical lung

I go to the club to drop something

Then pick it back up

I fly on my bicycle alone

To the barroom & watch

A boy play pool

He dances with a cue

In his teeth

His shirt holds him

Like a bad mother

I drink my coke through a straw

Suck the whole bar through it

My friends are all home

Praying their infants sleep

Through the evening

I pray too, the cradle crying

& on fire between my legs.