| Cairol Dawson Worley |
| Death Walk |
He reflected on the night he sat at the bar
trying to recall someone’s name, one
he couldn’t remember nor had he completely forgotten
the shape of her buttocks, walking away from him
in the general direction of the jukebox, dropping
quarters each more slowly than the last, pushing
the buttons, feeding its desire to play on, like him
watching the man next to him bend his elbow to
quench his thirst, while he starved, waiting,
eyeballing the mixed nuts throughout the room
jiggling flesh, strangers hung out for all to see
tempting, teasing him like he was some lap pet
waiting to be fed, so he danced for them,
stood and begged on his hind legs, frothing
at the mouth, salivating in anticipation
of the woman at the jukebox, painted
pretty faces won’t matter where they’re
all going eventually, but worry only for this
night hung in gray light and red shadows, gnarled
into the darkness of limb and lore, of orange suns
and a blue moon’s kiss upon his living death
in that single moment he remembered and wondered,
how does he let her go again, forever, from his heart into
the abyss of the dead where he shall roam this day forth?
trying to recall someone’s name, one
he couldn’t remember nor had he completely forgotten
the shape of her buttocks, walking away from him
in the general direction of the jukebox, dropping
quarters each more slowly than the last, pushing
the buttons, feeding its desire to play on, like him
watching the man next to him bend his elbow to
quench his thirst, while he starved, waiting,
eyeballing the mixed nuts throughout the room
jiggling flesh, strangers hung out for all to see
tempting, teasing him like he was some lap pet
waiting to be fed, so he danced for them,
stood and begged on his hind legs, frothing
at the mouth, salivating in anticipation
of the woman at the jukebox, painted
pretty faces won’t matter where they’re
all going eventually, but worry only for this
night hung in gray light and red shadows, gnarled
into the darkness of limb and lore, of orange suns
and a blue moon’s kiss upon his living death
in that single moment he remembered and wondered,
how does he let her go again, forever, from his heart into
the abyss of the dead where he shall roam this day forth?
| Exploratorium |
From the tip of his seductive tongue
to the point of his lavish pen
I found no significant difference
whether in placid temperament
or torrent execution of his delivery.
He was solid, unwavering, as you would
expect from a man of caliber, a man
of distinction, secretly gaping
into the minds of the unsuspecting
by his trickery, ah and beguiled by words.
Seductively he exposed the heaving
breast, tore it open, unleashed desperate
hearts, held it in the palm of his hands,
and cursed this heart for any other man
to try, to dare to succeed this poet man.
Dedicated to him like a slave of passion
his words now craved like volumes
of some drunken addiction, one word
is too many, yet a million not enough
and in this darkness I clamored for more.
What love is this that by any other name
would devour my heart then mock me
Laughing, grinning the evil oozing from within,
scrolling my demise in wet crimson ink, dripping
from his Lavish tongue swiped fangs.
From what labyrinth does he escape to sense
my heart, like some ancient alien wave organ?
to the point of his lavish pen
I found no significant difference
whether in placid temperament
or torrent execution of his delivery.
He was solid, unwavering, as you would
expect from a man of caliber, a man
of distinction, secretly gaping
into the minds of the unsuspecting
by his trickery, ah and beguiled by words.
Seductively he exposed the heaving
breast, tore it open, unleashed desperate
hearts, held it in the palm of his hands,
and cursed this heart for any other man
to try, to dare to succeed this poet man.
Dedicated to him like a slave of passion
his words now craved like volumes
of some drunken addiction, one word
is too many, yet a million not enough
and in this darkness I clamored for more.
What love is this that by any other name
would devour my heart then mock me
Laughing, grinning the evil oozing from within,
scrolling my demise in wet crimson ink, dripping
from his Lavish tongue swiped fangs.
From what labyrinth does he escape to sense
my heart, like some ancient alien wave organ?
