The Ear Whispered Adultery
prophets wear hand-painted signs and sit in the back of buses
advertising paradise some wear gold rings on fingers
and count money the dream returns mother nature shows me
that her kiss thrusting trust is forbidden knowledge of desire
flamenco dancers dead soldiers marching through white stone collects
cold silence in the sweat of illusion we touch the agony
words drained of their blood is a frightening proposition
of desire we speak of tiny morsels savored like wine
in the ear whispered adultery gray films moving through bones
devoid of worms sleeping in apartments frightened residents look out
through tiny peepholes as disheveled people on shoulders of roads
hold card-board signs beside skinny dogs begging passing cars
for crumpled notes with dead faces
Copyright © Alex Roth | Year Posted 2014
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