White-knuckle

 





Break to see or flee for shade
by a gawk of rocks
in white-knuckle blaze...

a raving phrase
is carried on the breeze,

under the shovel
of an encroaching
storm distress

over wide, weary
scabs on the pull - mend
a slip through the cracks
into callous fist

(they cooked us with looks
 so we spoke through smoke,
 our love whispered
 in a garbled flux
 of gilded whine,

  our needled eyes on the prize
  cleaving the dirt
  from air to gold

   all while choking on time
   beneath sauntered planks
   as scrying hands
   commuted skull)



shaded free to flee from fate
by a hawk of Sun
on white-knuckle days

lay the ground a break & see

this faded voice
still buried
in the breeze