These Roads Thomas Warren Poetry

local_library These Roads

by Thomas Warren

Published in Issue No. 252 ~ May, 2018

Today, I see roads that change names

each block, and I drive with blind faith

that one will bring you home soon. Memory

is muscle bathed in morning sun, framing you

in buildings past: a coffee shop

we sat in once late at night, the sky purple

with stars and the couple adjacent

playing chess while we absently

glanced across our table, eyes alight.

a theater, holding hands like cups,

laughing and the screen flashed

white our faces before darkness, high cheek’s

caught in a smile. A furniture store

we strolled, lounging on couches never bought

as respite from the day’s work, our bones

so suddenly heavy, your head on my shoulder,

being nothing together.


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Biography: Thomas Warren lives in a house with tall ceilings in Charlottesville, Virginia. He’s been told many times that he smiles too much and should cut back on the coffee. Currently, he and his wife are the main caretakers of a dog, cat, two horses, and a miniature donkey named Mary Dishman.