Wednesday, October 14, 2020

Adelaide by Mark James Andrews

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.

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