A Charcoal Drawing A charcoal drawing Of a death camp survivor In a green doorway: Approached by the rumble Of a bus inspires a tongue to taste The ash of self sacrifice; To ready my wings to lift. Theyve got me pinned against the wall After I spray painted the tension between Shoulder blades, wings, Large eyes, and wet hair in the rain, Long and dark like my graffiti Under the bridge: self portrait Of the narrow frame theyve chased down. I swallowed time Before the cops could take it away. Not the watch on a gold chain Used to hypnotize, or the gold coins Behind the shower curtain of my identity. I cant have that, just me being healed, saved. The Devil feels the sentence with his breath, Like wings touching a window pane. Sometimes the energy pulse of my names death Moves from shoulder to shoulder Like a caught fishs shadow, Or like trying to escape America.
Posted on: Wed, 09 Jul 2014 03:51:21 +0000
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