Stuart Ross

Pages: 1 2 3 4

I Left my Station

 

They told me to sit right there.

I sang the praises of the secret police.

I felt the cool of lips on my brow.

I felt the barrel of a gun in my rib.

Each toe on my feet curled like a boll weevil.

Her voice was as pretty as a pretty thing.

Who was it I once loved?

I received an urgent phone call.

I realized I was not a human-shaped magnet.

I learned to play a broken mandolin.

Clouds made of porridge parted in the sky.

Seven blind crows swooped by.

A fire broke out at the Memorial Hall.

They poured a bucket of water on me.

I shrugged my big shoulders.

I left my station.


Pages: 1 2 3 4

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