Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Jon Petruschke

In the dark
only my hands
see you.

Trail of clothes
to your
small patch of meadow.

your pink jewel
on my ring finger.

Summer scorcher
her t-shirt
wears her.

Country fair contest
behind the tent, showing off
what she’s grown.

In her hips
she feels
his storm coming.

Only I see
the morning dew
on her hillsides.

Engorged breasts
in the light
of the milky way.

Ex’s scent
in her bed’s
memory foam.

Flash flood
she holds onto me until
I softly recede.


Jon Petruschke grew up in the Philadelphia area. He currently resides in Portland, Maine with his wife and two cats. Almost twenty years ago, he founded a writing group that he still leads today. When not writing, Jon works as a therapist in his private practice, and enjoys the beautiful outdoors of Maine. His work has appeared in Philly Fiction, Philly Fiction 2One Sentence PoemsCrosshatch PublishingUnder the BashoPoetic HoursPaper Wasp3 Cup MorningOpen Minds QuarterlyWaterways: Poetry in the MainstreamIn Our Own Words: Generation X Poetry, and Children, Churches and Daddies. And he has a book of poetry – Dream Haiku: Poems from Nights and Naps.


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