by Tyrone Williams
I left my heart in the teeth of jumper-cables—
black tongue, superfluous nipples . . .
By The Time I hit the yellow tape—
it was already turning red . . .
Of my fair and alabaster love?
My redundant chains drawn in chalk?
Halfway to the stars I stopped—
turned, spat—it’s too late, baby ...
Last updated October 24, 2022