Jan 2021
The heater lopes
behind me, so
I don't hear you
rugging your way
up the stairs
with your gun.
When you point
it towards me,
the lights switched
on yesterday.
behind me, so
I don't hear you
rugging your way
up the stairs
with your gun.
When you point
it towards me,
the lights switched
on yesterday.
tribute to Gregory Corso's "Birthplace Revisted." Probably the last noir poem I'll do for a while.
