Timothy Gager

Photo by Su Red

June
 
You left, started something,
drove, kept going, days,
took two lane split highways,
where tall grass bent
away from your acceleration.
Clearly, you saw right through
the planks of wood
of the abandoned houses
that must have been loved;
their tin roofs turned
from glint to rust
to thin-like filings
between your fingers.
The motel room’s bare
sheet lifted away
at a right angle was
the only perfect thing
you've seen since
you opened your eyes,
now, sleep becomes impossible.