Art > Writing

The Fall

Ten or so tarnished, worrisome years
wave bye-bye choo-choo in a screech
like a Southside scribble train crossing
Walnut
Liberty
Kilgore
Leaving him smack in the middle of
the following scene:

Red sheet entangled sweet sweat
skin and
Rhythm
and rhythm
And
Rhythm

His own image reflected in a corner
mirror holding fast against the
vulnerable self and the scent of
black hair entanglement.
Indelible marks goose bumped under
wandering fingers and warm
breath lips whispering the
uncertainty of Salvation and the
exquisite undertaking to not


fall


in love.