Wednesday, August 14, 2013

What If

It’s a coyote howl
against a Bloody Mary moon;

panting awake wet
from the shivering ache of a nightmare
in which you'd found contentment;

a cold stroll in the dark
as footsteps not your own gain ground;

black-sooted bricks, phallic
within the smoky smolder
of everything lost;

dipping your toe into cobalt blue
and hoping for a few moonlit ripples.

It’s bumping into her,
stammering at the green in her eyes,
reminding her of your name.

Crack the Spine - Issue 76

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