Glenn McCrary
From Across The Bar
A warm front beseeched her
Sweet vocals of glittering jazz
I fell into the intricacies of riddles
Chasing the pavement of cultures
Upon her breath.
Had our tongues even met?
A memory impossible to worship
The echoes of dragon fire
searing at the base
of my tonsils
A sea surfing current of hurt,
yet a pleasurable hurt
an enjoyable suffering
https://truml.com