The sloughed-off skies

A boy for six months
grew small, grew weak,
and into the Atlantic sunk
his happy trail like balls and teak.
He rose and dined on watery boys
with pills in his hand of dilaudid
and a smirk, and a hard on, and paranoid
he sat on someone’s shoulders, and shouted.
He shouted for hours to the listening sun
then quieted when the moon turned to run
toward the sandpit at the ocean’s bottom rung
to sleep in the drug and covet his lungs.

Advertisements

~ by Jeremy on July 9, 2009.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: