CABIN FEVER
He wakes up hung over
though he hasn’t been drinking –
unless winter is a hundred proof
because he’s already had more
than enough of the cold and snow.
Outside,
a car grinds gears on a road
once flat and smooth as a church pew,
but now slippery and sleeted,
spinning wheels like tops.
Day-old coffee is the first
of many weather reports.
As is the turgid country music
on the radio,
some cowboy pleading sorry
for something any guy would do
if given half the chance
He could really go
for some fried eggs and bacon
but he hasn’t been shopping
in a week or two
and who knows if the Chevy will start up
once he’s done scraping ice
off all its windows.
He’d sell his soul
just to have a little more
than what he needs to get by.
A shovel leans against the wall of the garage.
It stands guard over his procrastination.
He should go dig himself free.
His routine hasn’t been the same
since he resigned from it.
But ever since his wife left and the job fell through
and he fell and broke his collar bone and…
ever since is a time without end.
He watches flakes skid down the window pane.
A man, he agrees, needs something to live for.
January is not in the running.
EAT AWAY
I watch them eat peaches,
grasping the golden fruit in their hands
like an offering to themselves.
Some take large bites.
Others peck the skin away
with their teeth,
so their eyes can wallow
in the virgin flesh.
There are squeezers.
And pulp lickers.
And others who run the rind
against their cheeks,
surrender to the floating hairs.
One takes out a knife and fork,
slices the fruit evenly.
If she were my worker,
I’d fire her on the spot.
I prefer the dribblers,
the unabashed, unashamed,
lickers of the sweetened chin.
Let me see the lips smack,
eyes do their own sucking.
Eating peaches should be
like sex in the open,
orgasm splashing on the tongue.
There are some swallow asparagus,
Others feed on grapes.
They should just see themselves.
No one else will.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Schuylkill Valley Journal, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Columbia Review and Spoon River Poetry Review.
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