A poor boy promised me a textbook view of the stars. No snaking city lights from a crown of downtown buildings,. Medusa-like in their paralyzing beauty. He drives the dark highway and I hold him to his word, he turns. Stiff black trunks and treetops wave goodbye from the roadside.
Visions of policemen. He places a hand on the dip of my back to guide me, like Hades, into his world. Rage is the language of men, layers of particulates fused. Rage is the wine father pours to the ground. Driving the highway from Atlanta to Phoenix means swapping one type of heat for another. Body chemistry changes like the color of my skin: from yellow to sienna. Search Submit. Poems Find and share the perfect poems. Page submenu block find poems find poets poem-a-day literary seminars materials for teachers poetry near you.
Death Is a One Night Stand. Sjohnna McCray β. No snaking city lights from a crown of downtown buildings, Medusa-like in their paralyzing beauty. He drives the dark highway and I hold him to his word, he turns onto a roughly paved hillside. Visions of policemen in orange reflective vests pulled by search dogs for a scent, a scrap of cloth, follows me into the field.
Used with permission of the author. More by this poet. Sjohnna McCray. The Arthouse. Email Address.
