December 23

comments 8
Uncategorized

Sleet on the way home,
the wind’s incisors. What

do you say to a man
who is dying? I miss

the turn for the exit,
three times around

the parking garage’s
flattened concrete

helix. I vacate
my spot, I leave

it wanting. The heart
is a door that opens

and shuts.

Advertisements

8 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s