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Sep 2011
Hand over hand, day climbed into night -
our noses bloodied -
our eyes bright with the glare
of neon signs.

Empty laughter escapes from the lips
of a woman, like little
from a gutter.
Gutter hands, gutter voices.Β Β Is this
our Renaissance,
sealed with a kiss?

On and on the world turns,
and in her hand a cigarette burns.

Breathing in humidity and
a thousand evaporations:
alcohol and enmity
and sensual sidelong glances.

β€œI had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other.”
Jessie Anna H
Written by
Jessie Anna H
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