Audio: A Passenger


Listen to: A Passenger


Urges prowl and posture
digging a deeper ditch
through your delicate frame.
You are seven miles of oblivion,
secrets too large to detect,
darker than swallowed mountains.

Nerves, a cul de sac,
stitches jittering in a pale paradise,
something is almost left of your heart.
Without an enemy, you’d disappear.
Like a list, you write yourself down
so you won’t forget.
Dire candy, too many dead to remember,
accidents don’t just happen
they require practice.

I could be a cure.
You take me only
in controlled doses.
You love the way I love you,
always, not forever.

Heavy weather now,
sky squeezing down,
as the taxi, a supplicant, 
crawls toward you.

Get in, you bark.
Give the driver the address.


San Pedro River Review, Spring, 2011

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