a million miles has my heart walked
to find you here
to find you
here
where the leaves are turning gray
where the waters recede without much complaint
there is death here
death
and the dying
like silent black pillars
death without funerals
I linger between your legs
my face sharpened by your sex
because I’m afraid of not knowing
what it is to know
there is death here
I see it in the folds of your hyacinth mouth
I hear it in the splintered syllables of your culling tongue
I’ll carry you with rough hands
across the waters
into nothing
if you let me
This poem originally appeared in Locust Review 9 print edition. Social media splash image by Irrealist Combat League. Locust Review 9 cover by Adam Ray Adkins.
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