by grimbeau

Chainsmoking cheroots

Looking down the gunbarrel

Maybe she wrote me that letter

I will never know

& if I did what difference

Would it make these days?


I will never know about

That either I suppose

so imponderables go


Image you crouched over

 See you fret hard over every

word until beaten brow snaps


furrow yields up  fears

beads come tumbling down

petrify snap splinter speck


pulver turn to dust

much as chimney sweeps

or this dry pressed iris