fuel

Fuel by Bogdan Dragos

he comes home in
the evening and
doesn’t
even greet his wife

she seems used to it

just like her husband’s used to
finding nothing to
eat anywhere in
the house

He’s tired and
feels like the whole world
had bullied him for
the past twelve hours

but complaining is
not on the menu

it never was

only a bottle of
wine

his wife brings it

opens it

pours
two glasses

and they start drinking

"Hello dear," he says after
the first sip
and leans in for a kiss

she reciprocates
and life
can finally begin

or continue

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "fuel"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!