Ryan Dement

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

I remember
our soggy ears,
barefoot braving
the asphalt,
jumping
from white line
to white line,
checking
with our
angels
how much
longer
we could be
brown,
loud,
and young.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

Brass.

This bed
creaks
and swings
when I
shuffle
and shift,
but I like
the way
it makes
the most
out of
moonlight.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

Same Clothes.

I'd change clothes
more often,
if you would only
come around,
make days
not all the
same.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

Women's Dresses.

There are parts
of women's dresses
that have
earned
specific
names.

I'd like to learn them,
apologize,
give thanks.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

Brats.

Birthday cake tutus,
bobbed barbarians,
these children
screech
when they aren't
dead-eyed
or
cackling.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

Track Stars.

I could move
so much faster
if I knew
it was toward
and from
only paint.

Ryan Dement Aug 2020

From Space.

The heights
and plummets,
the Saturday
rocketeering,
all look like
gentle slopes
from space.