Adelaide rested
in a mausoleum
down in a hollow.
We were both 19
and she was forever
young.
I tilted
Richards Wild Irish Rose
like a chalice
on Halloween night
lit a cigarette
mounted
the last marble stair
crouched and blew
a smoke ring
through the keyhole
of her bronze door
out of a French inhale
a lung burst
straight to the heart
of Adelaide.
Mark James Andrews continues to live and write on the borderline of Detroit most of the time. He is author of the chapbooks Motor City is Burning & Other Rock & Roll Poems (Gimmick Press), Burning Trash (Pudding House), Compendium 20/20 (Deadly Chaps) and a poetry recording Brylcreem Sandwich. Recent or forthcoming work is in Chiron Review, Trailer Park Quarterly, Redshift 4, Alien Buddha Zine #19 and RESPECT: The Poetry of Detroit Music.
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment