Anthony Liccione

what tomorrow may bring

sometimes its like a time
bomb
waiting to explode,
two days ago
it was over
the lawn mower
needing a new
spark plug,
today it was
an argument
on why I didn't
put jackets on the
kids before school,

that's how
we are,
always have been,
with just
one slip of words,
crushed eggshells,
we're at war,
each other's throats
and loaded guns
in our tongues,
chrome in our
knuckles,

it always happens
like this
where glasses
will get broken
slaps exchanged
like handshakes
of friends turned
enemies, a judas
kiss to jesus;
then the screech
of tires to the
nearest bar,

where anxieties
will go down,
and butterflies
will come up,
and I'll return
home,
with wings
a new man,
lay next to
her light in sleep,
she will turn
to me with her hand
and no words
for what had
happened,
following down
between my legs
and bring me up,
and we will have
unremorseful sex,
and return to our
separate ends of
the cold bed,

and sleep in the
fierce of what
tomorrow will
bring.

CP

Anthony Liccione lives in Texas with his two children. His poems have appeared in several print and online journals, and he has four collections of poetry books.