Harmonicas
we will all need babysittersis what the saxophone madam playsbraced against a tunnel mouthlike the night gently pulls her into itselfsounds like the late trains pulling outin black tie, and lace
When did you last look at the moon?Not glance, as you dashed indoorsfrom the cold. Or without care, from thesteamy window of the take away.I mean…
I’m startled awake.
Her cold nose nuzzling my arm,
You leave the top off the juice cartonyou held me tightYou leave jam in the butteryou said you’d never leaveYou leave mud in the hallway…
In the paper that I readI saw how he left.A sudden tragedywhilst doing good.Bringing focusto the unseen thousandscold on the streets.But no life is givento waste, to decline.Every word, every readerhis legacy.