Black Ice and French Fries
Northern vagabond
winter is coming to peck you apart
it has a black ice heart
as it kisses your blue lips
the blood will leave the limbs
to protect the soul of the heart.
but city people won't bring you in.
They've just clawed from under- a summer of blood
their conditioned not to trust your skin color.
Country folk are no better though
they stoke the hearth
the dirty nails of Jesus- crack the yellow blinds
no food is birthed from these hollow times.
head south vagabond
follow the heartbeat of the sun.
At least you can dream in conch and tangerine...
but here to, the people won't lend hand.
but you'll have the soothe of salty air, a pillow of warm sand.
The ocean breeze will play alto sax
a choir of gulls will tell you about God...
For half a French fry.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment