The Morning After

by Kelsey Shipman

Piles of unfinished

laundry. Panties planted

in sheets. Socks in rows

beneath windows. Sweat

stains on pillows. Sore thighs

shaking. Unused condoms

waiting. Your tears

in my hands. Leftovers

frying in the pan. Books

unread and unopened.

Your horn in the trunk

of my car. Less gas

than before. Thirsty plants.

Old chess set. Wetness.

Queasy stomach. Loud exhales.

Burned candles. Appointments

cancelled. Dinner plans

next week. New pair

of shoes. Floors begging

to be vacuumed. Your

toothbrush in the sink. Erect

toilet seat. Quarters spilled

on carpet. Crumpled blankets.

Anticipation.

Kelsey Erin Shipman is a poet, performer and educator. She excitedly teaches writing to middle school students in South Austin and undergraduates at Texas State University, where she is currently earning her M.F.A. in Creative Writing. www.kelseyshipman.com