Salt RockA Poem by HighBrowCultureCaught fanning again in the exhaust pipe. Shelled ten cents out for rolling paper. Tell myself, tell myself- ‘fight fire with fire’- Water just floods the bathroom where we used to undress and finger-paint some Punt on our skin anyways- ‘sides, rather have dry ash than damp’. Spit in my hands. Light up. Inhale. Exeunt the ghost of her lies. Stare into the peep-hole palms of my gurney-colored hands. They held a moment once. They do now. But it’s wicker. Once they held hers… Look up and oil spill the memory in waterfall snow-light. Saw someone mouth something behind the gas pump. ‘Leave out the fly trap- Tease a moth into beating itself against a Clementine testicle- You will never get over her.’ I kick up dust, bone gravel, and salt, say- ‘Yeah--- f**k.’ © 2010 HighBrowCultureFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
202 Views
5 Reviews Added on December 15, 2010 Last Updated on December 15, 2010 AuthorHighBrowCultureVAAboutWriting to create public disorder. Even if it means crucifying a Messiah. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|