On a Typical Night

On a Typical Night
Sparks shoot off the train through
the gray, grey morning
The whorehouse feels the burning
and the fire consumes the liquor store.
Until the pistols swell from exploding
through the memories of girls
who’ve grown to feed on men like meat
But men can spoil in the heat
and pay off their atrocities.
The noses snort,
the needles inject
before the painted mouths can swallow – before the sun even rises.

About the Author


From Bad Dirt during Winter's Bone and Saved by the Holy Spirit's Redeeming Grace

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *