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errol miller




URBANA



In the beginning
there was gin and living
sweet mamas at the crossroads
thrown back for literature
their voices came in a period of transition
clanking their chains until satisfaction was theirs
and of course if felt good warm submissive
slipping a crooked tongue into a field of poplar
nailing down nouns and verbs for tomorrow
when certainly the first settlers would enjoy
a little drink if their forefathers would allow it
looking back erotic snakeweed grew on the prairie
wagons of gold bounced rutted roads to Shalimar
beam by beam their kerosene lamps extinguished
until we were all idle nation-builders
sporting dark syllables in our minds
the sound of killing time and knowing it
praying for dead soldiers and tomorrow
going to our rooms to examine death
you can hear the wormwood children
their wails reaching the city limits
of Chicago and other smokestack
pavilions with subway bandits
this is their land too
is communion with fat bones
sparkling cherry wine sinewy freighters
asleep at Key West rising and falling
like surreal breasts challenged by good men
sipping vodka and soda as they sucked
red meat form the setting sun.



Scars Publications


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