40 THIEVES

up to my neck in shark infested waters
lost wandering under street lamps
bare feet on jagged rocks
hands out parallel like i’m ready to be crucified
winds shake me like a powerful sermon
and i’m lost in the gospel of the madness

the kind of blurry vision that glasses can’t fix
the blood runs through the bandaids
i’m trying to balance on the sharp edge of a clock hand
everywhere i drive it seems to be midnight
and the street signs are missing and the shops are all sleeping
i’m running on empty i can hear my car dry heave up the gravel

the red light of the cameras are all lit
i’m sitting at a stop light lost in time but someone is watching
i am all skeleton and wooden windchime
i am the ghost hands on the player piano
broken. stuck on the same three notes
and just as i go to jerk the wheel i hear it all around me

the conversations
the ones that we shuffle through the white noise to get to
i watch as my stupid humanity echoes into your mouth
and it’s okay. really i promise it’s all okay.

this world is built on love and dream and netflix
so i promise you this – it is all okay
and thank you for that
seriously. thank you for that

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

3 thoughts on “40 THIEVES”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s