Wednesday, October 25, 2017

stab wound blues



bluegrey taste of blood just
coming up to the top of howard
hill the empty fields the ruined
shells of burned out cars screams
of crows & of children not leaving
not arriving and this is where the
body of someone’s wife was
found and then down the other
side to the trailer you lived in
twenty years ago and i probably
told you i loved you at some
point and i probably thought
that i meant it but the sense of
urgency is gone i can count the
number of people whose pain I
care about on one broken hand
while i steer with the other and
it’s been raining since yesterday
afternoon & shows no signs
                           of stopping


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