When Lovers become Gunslingers
Tell me why, my tin-star, lover guy
we awake to clear, blessed, red dawns,
skin-to-skin with the safety on
and you kiss me, hard.
We tumble through the fever musk
in a bedchamber, bullet free
as you breath burns our bullshit sin
into milkweed wisps.
Dust in the wind. Continue reading “Them Fighting Words”