Corey Mesler 

Bedswerver

It was all I could do to keep
my eye on the clock.
The sheets were blank,
my lines unwritten.
She lay like a stone wall
beside me. I wanted
to knock on her windows.
It was all I could do to keep
my hand on my wallet.
The dust under the bed knew
my name. I wanted to
go back there. The sun, that
old spy, blew open
another day. I stepped lightly.
There were tracks aplenty
already and I stayed in them.
Leaving was just another story.
It was all I could do to keep
walking, the straits so narrow.

Again to the Mountain

I asked the mountain my secret name.
I asked it to show me its mouth.
The day was hot like Easter.
Slowly, the clouds began to form a
story, one I had heard many
years ago and discounted. I raised my
hand as if to shade my eyes.
I raised it as if I knew the answer.
The mountain knew my wretched perfidy.