Jane

You always think of Spain, she interrogates my face, about our separation, it's not easy for me, avoiding drink's embrace, to what might have been, full of trouble my migraines, her catholic eyes dilate, like some furious weather vane, on my part, she agrees, you inhabit some other place, my upstairs room a dream, icon to her blessed reign, 'Oh please don't hesitate, with your tired refrains', she says with unleavened grace, her beaten words create, a wind down the highway, it whispers escape.