Saturday 11/22/2008 12:15:00 AM

The stone on her heel laughed as she walked. Cutting through her shoes. In echoes of when. The ground still shook with her steps. Dead hurricanes named after friends. Trying on every shadow. To find the one that fits.

Waiting for the cancer was more than task enough. Everything has become tiresome. The eager in the twitch as the condom broke open. To release all those diseases she was certain weren't nearly as evil as they were justice.

The atom on its topic. Negotiating the bomb. Science. Religion. Love. Every discipline eventually evolves to destroy us. Maybe they're trying to tell us something.

Her eyes were clenched into a fist. As she warned him that the gods were growing bored. What's an alcoholic except a person looking in on a window to heaven. Too weak to break the glass.

What is hope other than the tepid embrace of another's flesh. The crisp pallor as we turn up the lights afterward. We sought hard, but didn't find anyone. Empty spider webs with their prey still stuck in the silk. Dead predators.

The swan assumes her wings are transport enough. To take her away from all the places she has been. The water dismisses her in tiny ripples. The stones we throw not nearly big enough.

Every yes thereafter framed in the wisdom of no.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.