IN REMEMBERANCE. by Wolf, Kevin Martin,

When everything hits 

at one time in the evening

In remembrance of reading the newspaper 

with coffee at table In remembrance of 

the hosts salty flesh and red wine blood 

some mornings are soft 

possibly a radio playing when 

there still was diversity in the 

background of your mind

that I'm still not used to 

being without.

In remembrance of my sleepy eyelids

as they fall heavy as a pile of angel’s

feathers fall like wind blown tobacco

out of your paper towards a solitary

desert that will be shown to you on

TV as an oasis for only the power hungry

A narcissist creed is power and division

looking at the blade in the hand feeling

gap in teeth with black tongue never up 

at the sun rising forgetting to listen to the 

yellow or golden Finch’s song 

of joy exuberantly expressing truth 

not shown in the reflection of a mirror

In remembrance of being in America I love 

to keep a pint of whiskey in my back pocket 

her secret dreams filled with nothing but blues

songs sung in streets as I am silent as nations fall

eyes blink and are abandoned when needed most

turned stabbed backs will pay you back

Please do not abandon when needed most

dollar signs wedding songs roses blacken the sun

burnt moon offering as someone loves you in every town

Sit down always weary souls rest awhile and wait 

to come back into style again soon enough to be 

tired of a fight ready to die clean scapegoats

on the edge of a razor of god’s tongues that never made a sound

Some point was a whirlwind of flesh am a cosmic shit with the key to the universe in my pocket

Got lost in the stars 

look out to sea it's 

the same thing

Let's smoke now we've got the chance

might be a little while before I cross these 

oceans of stars again to see you face to face

hear your ramblings kiss you on the cheek

as you kiss me back as my cities burn to

the ground didn't make a sound to walk on

the Moon or cross your valleys bones adding 

an edge to my shadow

Close my crucified eyes devout stars on the run 

Forgot which lesson of wrath or love to learn first as I cross the street not between the lines that lay

Hoping the cop car that just passed doesn't turn around as too many movies play behind my lost sad soul inverted by a small piece of myself that isn't sure if jaywalking is against the law like coloring outside the lines as i have a pistol in my pocket

Another car passes and the next one always speeds up as I step into the street.

Wolf, Kevin Martin, is from North Carolina and a regular contributor to the Arrival Magazine in Winston Salem, NC.  Amateur photographer and poet.