a dope has made his bed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

we are lost in blizzards

 

young water will know concrete,

freeze to a white waste, nude and rigid

become a walk for the latex masses.


in a vivid red cloud the bumbling blur

of rotted brick and forgotten scrawls of nights like this

are a dope's dream.

the mushrooming tower of city trees turn copper in lamplight

and scold in a vacant wind.


white teeth belie his ability to vomit.

a disaster of marriage pulls at his eyelids

like you might as well look down.

follow the cracks.

they run east in the cold.

and brick walls stay warm after dark.


but a dope rolled in sleep,

a lamb to asphalt,

is easily lost in the drift.


Submitted: May 21, 2013

© Copyright 2020 Caroline Michaud. All rights reserved.

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