Long Term

We took the bus
to see Star Wars or Rocky--
I can’t remember which.

Back at her place
we had some smoke,
and she showed me her guitar.
When I told her I wanted
to write, she said,
I wasn’t finished speaking yet.

I spent the night 
with her delicate under-
things, the long pink
scar that ran between.

This can’t be just a one night stand,
so I bit her neck, went under
the sheets—and stayed
for three more days.





Michael Albright has published poems in various journals, including Tar River Poetry, A Narrow Fellow, Pembroke Magazine, Cider Press Review, Revolver, Moon City Review, Blast Furnace, Uppagus, and others. He lives on a windy hilltop near Greensburg, PA. with his wife Lori and an ever-changing array of children and other animals.