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Caroline Shank
Poems
Dec 2022
They're All Dead
They're all dead, the men who
loved me in the backseat or
on the water bed. Or not.
Or mostly.
Bless please the memory
of warm nights and street
lights. The rock and
roll of hips blinded by
loves. The music
of traffic going by.
The voices of love in
the night. Rhythm
me now.
I loved the rhyme of hips,
the Song of
Throats rolling and
sibilant.
Ghosts who haunt me.
Let us pray.
Come to me tonight.
Rescue me from
long nights with the
Lamp's signal's
Flash incessant.
Caroline Shank
12.6.2022
Written by
Caroline Shank
77/F/Wisconsin
(77/F/Wisconsin)
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