267 Readings | 0 Ratings


                                                             the convalescent

                         how long have i been here   since your worker wolves
                         put a stop to you   you put your municipal squares in
                         their prairies    you and your inviolable hunting shacks,
                         bath houses, red sewers   the cordite plaza for the new
                         chargé-de-affairs   his unwelcome fog here his un-
                         assailable rustic taste   his venison tendency, our western
                         tint   our word against everyone   their beautiful skins
                         needing breath   the cave paints too   they wait to greet
                         the dead   with a time capsule   turn it on later   with a
                         torch    hello burning polis   radiant in the future    yes
                         i’ll take a mattress   in that lighted corner   tell the last
                         woman on earth to wake me when you’re gone

Posted 11/11/11
Comments (0)