Cover art by the author, "the blitz"
It was four days after the colonoscopy
and his head was still swimming.
A word spoken into the air
with such weight and certainty
hit him straight in the forehead
as if it were the smoothest stone
from the riverbed.
Scratching palms on the porch.
pipe resting between chapped lips,
smoke spelling "fuck you" as it
floats into the air.
Rocking in a chair with three legs,
pulse quickening with the sound of every
bird and every mosquito.
When the streets keep swirling,
its tide pulling in and out,
the matter of the mind
seems too heavy to be attached.
Blinking in quick succession,
turning the sky into a stop motion
clouds are chopped up
into individual, wispy fragments.
A residual gloom cloaking
news of a spreading death
"I didn't think I'd get that far,
He'll say as darkness consummates its passion.