Till Death Does Us

Till Death Does Us

Poetry

Elisabeth Horan

 

 

 

Broken pine
Behind the painting
The world we inherit
Married we made it
A lot better
Something together
It was not capable before
Long roads alone
So dangerous if not
Deadly. All demons
Know midnight knows
Curves; slatted twilight
Steering I sat on your lap
Feet feel pedals, as friends—
Motel eyes blinking
Vacancy in here
It sure was, and we filled it up
Our honeymoon
One day
One twilight
Before we drove off
Fender hubs gone
Ditch bait
Liquor run.
Broken neck
Standing pine
That’s funny, you said
Why is it honey
That you,
That we… survived?

 

 

Bio: Elisabeth Horan is a poet and mom from Vermont. She is a messy minded feminist and ecobitch. She loves animals and nice people. @ehoranpoet

Sign Up for the Weekly Review

Stalk us through the Mind-Farms of Social Media...

Or Check Out These Links!