Josh Thompson

chamomile


with her hands clasped in front of her
she waited for the water to boil
chamomile for the colder months

her coughs had awoken me from sweet slumber
and tossing the covers off
I noticed the dark night still outside

I sat down beside her at the kitchen counter
and watched the water begin to boil
she smiled a faint smile
one that wouldn’t light any hearts on fire

but it’s been this way for months
she doesn’t sleep anymore
and it’s not that we’re not in love,
it’s just the wrong kind.




euphoria


she’s lying on the bed,
covers strewn on the floor.

her hair, a mass of almond,
flowing like a river
along the white linen sheets.

she’s gaping and ready.

her words massage my ears
on their way in
as I enter her darkness
with no lights.

it is like what euphoria
must feel like
to those who don’t know
the definition of the word.


Josh Thompson is a poet and short story writer from New York City. His work has appeared in The Coe Review, The Ugly Tree, Ballard Street Poetry Journal, Poetry Superhighway, Camroc Press and Drown In My Own Fears, among others. His first book of poetry, When All Else Fails, Try Dreaming, was published by Literary Road in 2006. He bartends to pay the bills and is a tremendous fan of Napa Valley Cabernet's.

Current Issue:
January 2010

Taylor Graham
Eliza Hannon
Jamie Elliott Keith
Michael Keshigian
Mary McCall
Simon Perchik
Josh Thompson
Patricia Wellingham-Jones
 

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