there was my longing
and the knife of you
the sharp hiss of your heart
purpling in the early heat
of a Sunday morning
it is the lifetime of the worker-saints
the colossal people
have you heard
the death rattles
of the last dwellers of capitalism
the moon is heavy with empty houses
when the banners come unfurled
all red
and breaking across your hips
my love
my hands
dying on you
like leaves
often
I have loved love
as a stranger
but not this hour
you are the witness
of my life
Social media splash image by Adam Ray Adkins.
Subscribe to Locust Review for as little as $1 a month.
Submit work to Locust Review by e-mailing us at locust.review@gmail.com.