Cold Creep by Yvonne Morris

Cold Creep

You said you got tired of waking up
on strange kitchen floors, cold tile,
gritty like chin stubble against your
sticky cheek. Of course, you played
guitar, but gave up life on the road
for love, for cigarette burns on your
sleeve, like every good Marxist.
And when I asked you why you left
the band, you admitted the fist fight
on stage—over a woman. But I knew
the answer before I asked the question,
didn’t I? You told me how you stood
outside your ex’s trailer at night, crept
among the trees to watch who arrived.
Something darker soon predicted I’d
grow tired, too, after that final January
drive to your apartment, the blistering
moon slicing through my windshield.

*

Yvonne Morris is the author of two chapbooks: Busy Being Eve (Bass Clef Books, 2022) and Mother Was a Sweater Girl (The Heartland Review Press, 2016). Her work has appeared in a variety of journals, including The Galway Review, The Swannanoa Review, The Santa Clara Review, The Main Street Rag, Wild Roof Journal, and elsewhere. She lives in Kentucky.