Month: September 2019

curled

i set you down
so you may look up.

if I told you
that the way you tilt
your head
back
to meet
my
eyes

is a fist.

fingers entangled in hair
a heart in curled fingers
a punch to the gut

the laughter of gods

thunder.

I wait for it, window open, clove between two fingers, whiskey like gasoline at hand.

thunder is a pulse

metallic scent, soft rain, and then –

heartbeat

thunder. Thunder. THUNDER.