Michael Dwayne Smith

Muse

My boyfriend strums darker than a Blue Period guitar
abandoned in a Bohemian café. In the rain.

Tonight, my sister and I will let down the dark curtain of our hair.
My husband will watch me with wet Labrador eyes,

then when she and I step out, the city night will brush our faces
like hummingbird wings, and before long my boyfriend’s darkness

will fly through my body. I’ll pet his cats as I leave.
My sister will nest until daylight with her coffeehouse waitress.

When she and I return, my husband will jump in my lap again
and re-marry me, again, in an even darker dream.