Devon Neal (he/him) is a Bardstown, KY resident who received a B.A. in Creative Writing from Eastern Kentucky University and an MBA from The University of the Cumberlands. His work has been featured in Moss Puppy Magazine, Dead Peasant, Paddler Press, MIDLVLMAG, and others.
I Wish
I wish I could drive down Bloomfield Road with you again
in the last light of the day, the windows down
playing that song that makes me think of nights with you.
I wish I could open the window on a rainy night again
and listen to the storm mumble, or after a few drinks,
walk out on the wet lawn and look at our dim windows from the road.
I wish I could go out and sit in the sun with a cup of coffee again,
watching the kids swing and scream, the wind cool,
the garden sprinkled with the plants’ confetti.
I wish I could run out for wine again just as the snow starts,
the air filled with pepper, the car slightly drifting,
the road growing pale as I move toward the promise of a warm night.
I wish I could lie back for an unplanned nap with you again,
the sound of kids on the street drifting in from the opened window
and, with them, the kiss of summer wind on our sleeping skin.
I wish I could do all of it again. These are
things I’ll say one day, but now, let me
live them slowly and with great purpose.
The New Routine
The new routine is that we get in bed
Just after the kids do and watch the summer
Sky bruise like a peach. I turn on the fan
And it thrums on the floor and we talk
Until beads of light shine through
The cracks in the window blinds. When she
Gets sleepy, her vowels grow long and dim
Like smoke from a dying fire, and eventually
She wraps herself in a blanket and I write
Next to her in the darkening room until
Dreams nudge light sighs from her chest
And I wonder how I’d fall asleep without them.