Sunday, January 17, 2016

Dehumanizing Static

I smoke them until
I breach the filter

until I burn my fingers

until the smoke
comes dancing in
between open windows

swaying back and forth
between you and night

freeing sweet, lonely you,
sweeter still than

I don’t know what hours
have said to me in morning

why in the span of miles
there is a dehumanizing static
that I throw out
in buckets.

And I smoke you until
I break the thin song
under your porch light

until you burn my feared whispers

away in brittle branches.