they fight at night

Posted on May 18, 2009

2


they fight at night when the chest feels tight. oh right, he’s wrong, again, and she’s right, of course she’s right. and he shouts, he always shouts. and then she screams, always screams. now he sulks, always sulking that bastard, i did ask him when we met whether he sulked easily and told him i couldnt stand it and he said smiling yes i sulk and they laughed it off. doves were circling above the lake then and the mood was good and the pants were tight oh so tight too tight. their work was done and they were far away from everyone.

there were sounds around them then and they were whispering to each other and holding on to their sanity because the love seemed to make them crazy. or perhaps it was the fear of coming close again, who knows now after all these years.

now it is night, and they fight, and then they grit their teeth and they smoke and they make plans anyway and run their life, run their lifelines from the ship, the family ship around their house and their car and their jobs around a pillar knot them so they don’t come loose because then everything might come loose.

they fight, at night they fight. oh right, she’s wrong, again, and he’s right, of course he’s right. the bitch. and she shouts and he sulks and later they hug, dug in their trenches, firing from close range, all their ammunition comes from a deep sea of love, muddy waters but theirs. around them stand others, billions of lovers and shouters, all right, all wrong all the time every day and every night. and they fight.

later that night, after the fight, the dove comes again, in their sleep. He reaches out to touch her and she doesn’t flinch. their hands clasp, from way up they look like one, and down there, it feels like they’re together, something to fight for, at night. they’re allright.

(published in the lovely Rejection Digest)

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