His Drunken Angel

he hadn't shaved that day
and lingered on the crop
that spread across his face

his trousers had the remains of
spaghetti meatballs eaten
in front of the tv, the juice
dripping slowly from his
plate as he watched

he wanted his drunken angel
to come back to him
wanted to swim in her wake
taste her sweat

he looked at the hands
that had held her
hours ago
as they struggled
to control the
out of control

he could still hear the
slam
of the door
as she stormed into
the night

his drunken angel
had fled