Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Cheap Spirits
The shadow of the earth is deepening
and here the sunless cold is turning water
into ice. One homeless man beneath
the Salt and Pepper Bridge will die despite
the seven-hundred-fifty milliliters
downed of Californian table wine.
His blood will never feel the resurrection
come this April, but the heart has never
needed such religion as its sign.
~Son Rivers 2009
Labels:
poem
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