Inside Henry

inside henry there is an unspoken rule:
every door remains bolted
coffee tickles his senses in vain
as I search for the wide-open ‘in’ i know exists

there are days when songs crown his furrowed brow
he swats at them like flies
there are evenings when his fire cackles
and crackles and simmers so close to the surface
that he walks around with his shirt off
and downs cold beer

he parades his ‘i love you’s
in criticism and dirty words
they loofah my heart
which thinks the whole thing is funny anyway
sparkling clean, scrubbed anew
i keep my eye on the blinding brilliant light
that lurks just under tomorrow’s left eyebrow

inside henry

Painting and Poem by Bliss