Midnight Blood

A vile rot lurches in my pulse.

I am nothing but the bones my mother gave me.

A gift for my grave to toss in with fresh nickels.

Violence aches in the wind.

I know my seconds are swallowed by oil,

But I keep delving into the black bile.

Hoping to float, but my heart is lead.

She sinks and sinks with each throbbing pulse.

There’s a hole in the flesh and it gushes and gushes

As I lie

Dreaming of running, of dancing.

To loose, to gain. I know what I am. 

Shadows melt behind soggy  leaf bags 

Slouching and weeping like wheezing old dogs.

Moths with vertigo worship a false moon

And here I am, spinning, in black midnight with them.

A calm, aching death,

My old dear friends.

I’ve come home to imprints on my thighs.

I never did say that nighttime was peaceful.

Only that I lay down in it 

And sleep.