came two Septembers ago
with a dagger deep
in Adam's rib.
I wade in the day
of that crevace,
an undecided railworker
at a boney crossroads
is this heaven, the future
or a Publix parking lot
at night
after a thunderstorm?
the little pieces of sky
caught in every puddle
like some cheap portal
to another dimension.
but I refuse
the blonde ghosts
who beckon me
from the light.
but I refuse
the blonde ghosts
who beckon me
from the light.