It's just poetry, it won't bite

Midnight Thoughts


04.30.12 Posted in words to linger on by


Nicole Yurcaba’s most recent poem to appear here was Broken Goes the Circle (March 2012).

Midnight Thoughts
By Nicole Yurcaba

Thunderstorms 
rolled into the valley;
pouring rain fell, drumming
heavily on the old tin roof.
So, I got out of bed to 
close an open window.
I wondered, staring into the deep night
if you went hunting. 
You had said you might.

To Branch or Grace
did you to to train hounds?
If you did go, I hoped
you hadn’t yet turned loose.
Ripper, never gun shy, full of
grit, cowered during summer storms.
I smiled. At least Ripper didn’t change.
From what I remember
you hated hunting in rain.

If I sit
at the dining room table
to write, Dad will ask questions:
“Why are you writing at midnight
by candle when you should be asleep?”
Why so many questions when I’m an adult?
From the dead fridge I get a beer–
bottled Yuengling Black and Tan.
I wish you were here.

Another ex married
his ex-girlfriend from years ago today.
What a complicated mess!
She came from the Air Force;
he borrowed six hundred dollars to
buy a quarter karat diamond
set in a pristine gold band.
My only thought, you should
have been putting a ring on my hand.

Lightning splits
stormy skies into dark pieces.
If you turned hounds loose,
be careful. They’ll circle back 
to the truck. I can see you
wet, shivering, loading them into the aluminum
full-sized, custom-made dog box.
Did you think of me, if you went to Branch,
when you passed Kevin’s Rock?

Another sip
of heavy dark porter.
One’s enough, too many calories.
After college this is called “alcoholism.”
Busch Light’s what you always preferred–
horse piss, in my uncultured opinion.
You said Jack Daniels would
be what killed me.
Too, living without you could.

Three am:
six hours until church.
Sunday morning calls for fake smiles
while the preacher preaches
whatever preachers preach.
Praise reports, prayer concerns;
it’s too hard to praise or pray anymore.
My only prayer:
Unexpectedly, you show up at my door.

Thunderstorms
moved east over the mountains.
Lightning flashes on Virginia’s side.
Will it rain tomorrow?
Farmers won’t be too happy;
rainy weather makes for bad hay baling.
Let’s just be thankful
it’s even raining.





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