Issue 11.1 Fall 2015

11.1 cover image

 

 

blow me a kiss

 

Mike Coleman

 

 

I’m writing to you
from the depths of
a ground floor apartment,
Stones on the speakers,
vodka cranberry in a giant
cup and it’s all so far but
it’s all just a shot away,
but there’s no time for shots,
it’s all just wasting away
through my fingers
like old snow in a spring sun.
run while you can,
I’m not smart so
don’t agree with me
I’m not an artist so
don’t listen to me
or read me or watch me
I’m not a hard worker
don’t praise me, no slaps
on the back, no nothing.

 

I’m just a kiss,
blown towards you,
but picked up by the wind –
floating ceaselessly through
a current of nothing
I ever wanted.

 

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