Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Shortest Distance Between the Water and the Bridge

Technicolor premonitions
of losing all your breath
in the echo of a hollow cell
that startles you awake panting
to one sweaty dawn after another.

Watching brown spots multiply
every time you piss vinegar
at the speed of gravity as if
you can’t remember ever feeling
the fuzzy crush of a peach
against your lips or the juice of it
leaking from the corners of your mouth.

Taking bites from a bologna sandwich
you slapped together four hours ago
in the Wonder-bread darkness
that hugs you goodbye
every morning.

Fading with the shade
of a few tall trees. Hearing children
screaming from swings. Turning your back
against all that noise.

San Pedro River Review - Fall 2014

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