heat traces a wet finger
along my spine, down
the curve—dead-ending
at my tailbone. i stew
in the mugginess
of this dark room.
the open window
provides lightning
to strobe yellow across the walls:
thunder undulates between the silences
as you gradually slip away.
john compton’s work has appeared in Burial Magazine, Blood+Honey, and Dodo Eraser. He is the author of the poetry collections my husband holds my hand because i may drift away & be lost forever in the vortex of a crowded store and house as a cemetery.