From Across the Bar
A warm front beseeched her
Sweet vocals of glittering jazz
I fell into the intricacies of riddles
Chasing the pavement of cultures
Upon her breath.
Had our tongues even met?
A memory impossible to worship
The echoes of dragon fire
searing at the base
of my tonsils
A sea surfing current of hurt,
yet a pleasurable hurt
an enjoyable suffering
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
Copyright © Glenn Mccrary | Year Posted 2012
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