"mudcracks" poems
He is watching the cabs gripping
A two dollar and fifty cent sandwich
in the trembling wind
It is hard to digest suicide
in little bites
the air is thinly sliced
on window panes dripping
with snowfall and fresh electricity
young ice on the
nervous water
retreating to frosted mudcracks
the streets are ******* up shadows
on the mute cement
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC