- Gary Hunter
At Seventeen - March 25, 2021
his mange is
covered with her love
and a blanket
half a lip drips saliva
both eyes glow
dead white
she carries him
her feet are his
but I wonder
how many times
in all those years
he carried her
his mange is
covered with her love
and a blanket
half a lip drips saliva
both eyes glow
dead white
she carries him
her feet are his
but I wonder
how many times
in all those years
he carried her
snorers are braggarts they say to the sleepless I can even hum a tune while I do it
the squeal of rubber rips the silence as a fast driver carves up the invisible night with an extended tortured note and skid marks when it stops I close my eyes wait for crickets to serenade the darkn
walking out my front door I’m assaulted by the awful stink of thousands of mango blossoms but oh what a miracle when they morph into handfuls then armfuls of ambrosia as if a hangover could turn into