Cross

It’s back…

I don’t know if it’s the sun that brings it
or the way the street is lit up

he feels her on the bridge of his foot,
in the taste of his own spit,
the very smell on the trees…

green house across her mother’s
blue sheets was the best,
still hasn’t been topped off

the way the hunger drives sometimes
takes him across, at the goddess’ mercy
gripping his life up murderous heights

hasn’t been seen yet
it’s breaking inside
it’s ripping underneath

darkness tugs his black eyelashes shut
paint sleep on his face
until it’s time to cross

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