A Night

And he pushes me out the door

And the night weeps on his shoulders

And the pavement pools slap at his knees

And passing headlights snap a glimpse of him

And he hears a tree branch snap, somewhere

And he finally approaches the white screened door

And the hinges squeal like excited pups

And mud spots litter the kitchen’s tiles

And he smells soggy, as wet clothing does

And his stained boots tumble down, unzipped

And more household squeaks follow him upstairs

And he tosses away his jacket and jeans

And the bed calls him down to the floorboards

And he gently sinks to his sore knees

And he crawls carefully under the blankets

And the rain taps away at the one window

And I, at last, take the reins for now…