For more information, visit Heather at http://heatherhaley.com/.
Under the bridge a blanket rests,
Knave rising, tapping to a bush beat.
Static fussy, hearing reproach in birdsong,
Flak in the bending willows
He may see through concrete
But do not call him clairvoyant or infrared.
Merely tenacious, tenacious is he,
Tenacious as the wild life
From the ribbon of road
Against the vortex of personality.
All furious downhill from here.
One drop at a time.
I paid the toll.
Where is my protection? Favor.
Boat. Deliverance. Red tulip.
Simmer you, still. Still no loosening
Of your grip around our lovely, long Jane Doe necks.
Confinement has not freed
Nor contemplation illumined.
Are we not macerated into mash,
Pulp enough for paper? Fiction. Fusion
Of forms so 21st century, so now,
So damned imperative.
We aren’t about to quit abeyance, balking,
Irrupting or being pricks. Hiding, stalking, preying
upon squirts. Being obsolete. Polysyllable.
Anemic. Let it leak. Glow. Gush around your finger
in the hole. All the time in the world.