dark skinned girls speak of the after life
behind the window under the wide stare of the moon
sweat beads down their cheek bones
into soft cotton of their shirts
they have seen it all in their dreams
in the wreckage, calm and steady
and I will see them soon
on the run, rise and fall
my oasis has grown, shifted, and broken
returning back to only them
I tried pushing east and west
they were the best burn in my memory
the best high I could find
YOU ARE READING
Natives of Wild Night
PoetryA collection of some of my poetry--various topics enjoy
