cross country
in red weather we stole
the postman's letters
covered in tears and wine
the black wolves forming
a line at the base of the camp
we carried our mace
at all times, the rain coming
down in black sheets my
hair had started to grow
back like leaves thwarted
on a dead tree. out in the wind
you called me on your cell
phone. a baby tiger curled
into your bed all crazy
bad breath in your face
my parole having just come
through. the cable guy
never showed, i was able
and we were left holding
the bill. far out at sea
1 comment:
out at sea
a missing vessel -
tigers, monkeys, and birds,
all for gold ?
tangled in the lair,
tattered and scratching each other,
both babies
taking refuge alone,
together
breathing painful
warmth – the door
always shutting
repetitive boot noises close in,
moving closer to each
other only
to know absolutely nothing.
unreeling chains splash, the boat jerks,
forgiving the thieves, questioning the wolves and the cable guy
PS - alot of bad breath out there
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