How you would listen in from
the rear of thick, dense heat,
backspraying a dissent of not
knowing the sky borne down.
And in the thrust of things
unseen, you came away with
the uphill trudge that seemed to
push through and past. A dart
sideways, two crooked nods
back, you bent a red scream to
a crumpling of skirts, leaving
teeth marks on blue gabardines.
Slick with the eververse of
airs, you trailed fingers inking
to spine, plucking free each soft
petal still untried in this new
world. Like the illusion as if by
thunder struck, you smoked
your first cigarette with holes in
its story, and how it warmed
into the black soot underneath,
illuming another version of your-
self trickling along your decay.