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