Ann Arbor Review
INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2013
Silver Grey Fox
Submissions via e-mail:
CITY OF LOVE # 4
She kept The Little Man in the basement,
where there were no flying insects, no rusty hopes.
Fed him cold tuna, moon cakes, and boluses of dear liquid love--
turned him into an addict fearing darkness. She had murdered
the wife who did not love him, a woman made from mold,
the detritus from ruined trains. One simple blow, a snap of the neck.
In the hard belly of the city, he would be held as a suspect,
would be tortured by blind detectives with course hands.
Holding him, she said she felt his heart grow bigger,
so much bigger, joked that she could barely fit it into her pinata.
After she left, promising to return, he closed his eyes.
She remained so bright.
Ann Arbor Review | Home | next | previous | Back to Top