The other side of that water, under that shelter

distanced from your voice as the lightning strikes

a single fork, hitting the ocean's horizon. That humid

breeze like an oven blast, slowly tips my patience

and allows your eyes to re-focus. 

That tepid temper that never surfaces, only smoulders

like fading embers, stagnates through lack of boredom. 

Our palms still manage to to cross with static, the charge

felt more in one hand than the other; that first sign of a


And towards the end of that week, still entwined under 

that low roof. The curtains only slightly managing to keep

out this heat. You set the expectations low, knowing that

threshold would be far too easy for me to reach, until 

again we fall once more.

Jonathan Butcher

Jonathan Butcher has had work appear in various publications both online and in print including: Outlaw Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, Picaroon Poetry, Popshot, The Transnational, The Morning Star, Ink, Sweat &Tears, Plastic Futures and others. His second chapbook 'Broken Slates' was published by Flutter Press. He lives in Sheffield, England. 

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