An Afternoon in  General   

As he writes, without looking at the sea,
he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
The tide is going out across the shingle.
But it isn't that. No,
it's because at that moment she chooses
to walk into the room without any clothes on.
Drowsy, not even sure where she is
for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.
Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,
head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her
through the doorway. Maybe
she's remembering what happened that morning.
For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.
And sweetly smiles.

By Raymond Carver

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Other poems by Raymond Carver:

• An Afternoon
• Bobber
• Fear
• Happiness
• Late Fragment
• Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year
• Stupid
• The Best Time Of The Day
• The Cobweb
• The Current
• The Scratch
• What The Doctor Said
• Your Dog Dies