because

it’s the sadness

of sulfur, or

the fact that

suicides are just

statistics, that

makes me want

to love you, while

i still exist, and

fill in that empty

four-letter word

with all my blood

and breath 

Earthquake

she bangs an upper-case “H”
on the ol’ purple typewriter

that she gave me for my birthday

she takes the paper out

and plays w/it
on the carpet 

in front 
of the TV 

like  
a cat

then she gets up 

smiles at me 
as Christmas lights shimmer 

and takes my hand 
to go outside and

get a Budweiser from the deli

she knows the little things to do
which stop the eroding of the soul

when the earth opens
and gravity laughs

Jonathan Hayes lives in Oakland, California with his wife and their cat.
tee_shirt_mind @ Instagram