Singer, you gave me
The mint. Sure, I was a cowboy
Killer. The den light
Burned pink,
Like raw skin,
Like a room tongue.
I kissed you once, twice, maybe lucky three
Times, telling you to leave
Before the roommates woke up and
Found us
Passed out on the couch again.
Humming, whistling.
That night, the storm
Was wild. Surely, somewhere, horses dashed
Across slippery fields.
Surely, somewhere, wind slid through the
Cracks
Of a screaming barn.
C.A. MacConnell
