Nocturn
,Center>The streets are ridge-backed and growling.
City lights glare like outflanked samurai.
Your thin hand dices words
into sideswipes.
Whiskey blooms in your orchid mouth.
I am led to where a lust
is armored, and snorting to be free.
Stories groom our hungers.
The night camps
in a small neon room.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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