Seven A.M./ Still Dancing
by and published in Edition Nine of Pomegranate
you should have seen it
son
trapped inside himself he was
son
kiss (hissing) that glass like a snake
son
chatting love songs with his hands
fluttering froth they were
and he was like,
“ I can’t wait for foam, like coral, a swell
a storm, a buckled breaking from the norm.”
and slurped
the air
neck out
as if spying on a secret