STEVE CROSS
Overcast

She dreams of sex on cotton clouds
Three men, their dicks, hanging like sausages
   between their legs, caress and kiss --
KY96 pierces
her flight
with a screechin', cheatin' song
   and she falls
   through the hole and
   slams back into herself.

Her husband lurches from the covers without speaking
   yanks down his shorts --
He has dreamed too --
   his rigid snake, coiling, hissing
   struggles in its pissing.
Pungent stream spews into the stool.

They will eat
They might speak
They will work ...

It is his night
After the news he
   will take her into his arms
   and they will fall
   onto the hard mattress.
She will drift into sleep --
a single tear, like a fat rain drop,
   moistens her pillow.