THE NEW ARRANGEMENT
After years of white-noise machines and deep-stuffed
earplugs, the husband's snoring flares into a thing.
The beleaguered wife flees to the guest room. The first night,
she floats out onto new sleep like the Dead Sea.
On the old shore, the husband chainsaws blissfully on,
no more midnight elbows to the ribs.
In separate beds they sleep well, sleep better.
There’s something wrong with that, you say?
Beyond what thin-aired timberline might his labors take him?
Toward what fabled kingdom might she set sail?
HAPPILY I WILL DROWN WITH YOU
We have swum so long together
we found the deep water.
Just in to the ankles when we
gave ourselves to one another.
Up to the hips when the babies arrived.
Our necks as they are paddling off in their own directions.
No time to tread water now, the sun
a hot ball hissing on the surface of the sea.
Our shorelines have eroded under the persistent lap of waves.
The land bridge our ancestors walked has collapsed.
We are oceans meeting for the first time.
Eric Lochridge is the author of three chapbooks: Born-Again Death Wish, Real Boy Blues, and Father’s Curse. His poems have appeared in Slipstream, DIAGRAM, Mojave Heart Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, and many others, as well as anthologies such as WA 129 and Beloved on the Earth. He lives in Bellingham, Washington. Find him on Twitter @ericedits.