Night of Straight and Crooked

A night unforgettable
for reasons unexpressable
entered into lightly and
left darkly.

This is not conflict
it is not war strictly
rather the teeming dim
cavern of stink.

What we do and the weather
are linked by a river
a twist of wind mindfully
avoids the bank.

Five ominous figures
of ambiguous gender
and age and race approach
and close rank

around my throat threatening
to storm with wordy eddies
my indiscriminate lungs
without thinking.

Who can or will understand
what I do out of manhood?
Not a superior or inferior
not a shrink.

At the start of the night
the river runs straight
by the time it rains it’s
crooked again.

 

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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