Scoundrel Time


The lizard was green against the wooden reaper.
It has come close to this happening many times, but this time
The red heart is beating on a stick.

You were eyeing the furs in the windows midtown.
Teeth get lost in the dark. Your tongue is winding down.
You cannot speak. You take notes in your gray book.

The horses jostle for apples at the wooden gate.
The creek is rustling bubbles through the forest.
There is a wild mother calling from the ferns.

Believe it or not, you fully understand all of this.
Your arms are crossed, but you are in love.
You are the truth the blind night knows at the cusp of dawn.