The Morning After

I hear the rain making waves
down the gutter,
the scaffolding creaks,
the repairs go undone.

I listen to the flick
of a lighter, the bubbling
of a bong, passing cars
in the street.

I catch you giggling
in the front room, distant laughter
from a joke I’m not in on.

My ears grasp onto
these vacant sounds
hoping that tomorrow night
will love me more.

Kate Foley is a Canadian writer living in Pennsylvania. She is passionate about sushi, poetry, and dogs. Visit her website:

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