Thursday, January 26, 2017

You dont know red

No. You don't know red because you've never been painted like that
Roiling into bold stations on wine-track words
Women waving handkerchiefs from under sunhats, in heels
Keeping time with wine-stained war on the sheets
No, you know honey amber, the golden burn of bourbon
Slinging between night trees
The wheeling moths
Covering a devoted decrescendo
To humming lights
 a canticle of singed flesh
The smell of powdery vowels, a deep dusk incense, bourbon 
No. together we know verdigris
Someone has brightened our rust
With an oxidized pulse
Trusting isolated tongues
Swallowing hard edges to flake into
Clear liquid dancing.

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