Melissa Prunty Kemp

30 Day Poetry Challenge: National Poetry Month

DAY 5

 

Couch Surfer

 

I’m a wayfarer in my dog’s house.

She shares a bed. I surf couches.

Stale cigarettes smell the same

whether hotel room or bungalow.

 

She has a home and I couch surf curb leftovers

broken in the center. Too many drunks

crowded around the mirror with stale cigarettes

that smell the same, olfactory memory.

 

Broken in the center, too many drunks

their bottles promising a scapegoat dressed in satin.

That smell, you smell the same. I remember you.

I hug your neck and feel your weight against me again.

 

Their bottles promising a scapegoat dressed in satin.

Stale cigarettes smell the same.

I hug your neck and feel your weight against me again.

I’m a wayfarer in my dog’s house.

 

 

 

 

© 4/5/14 by Melissa Prunty Kemp. All Rights Reserved