2

11/9/16

Staring at lynched dreams
hanging from the horizon
like winter’s dingle berry,
your clench your entire body as fuck-tight
as you can, trying to force weeds of hope
to sprout through the cracks of your
sidewalk(ed) mind.

Something at all.
Anything at all,

short, wild & beautiful,

like Marilyn Monroe’s untrimmed
armpit hair

coming to take us
home.