Joseph Jengehino

Drunken Heart


a drunken heart
can't be found
in atomic era motels
with neon cowboys
and empty swimming pools

in bus stations
that map the algebra
of human convergence

or the dais
of basement barstools

but I can make life drawings
from the exhaled smoke
of each cigarette

of the crimes
I've committed
against you

you can take the road
the oily tarmac
to where the sun commits suicide
on an infinite number

where the earth
turns in on itself
and makes imprints
of conversations
for those
that may or may not
remember

appalachia arrives over the dashboard
a bluegrass gospel
a lonesome mountain heart
strong as the back of John Henry

the skies turn to carbon
glowing with the plasma
of the lamplight
of eastern tennessee

memories of a flightless bird
your wrists lashed to bed posts
blood from a bitten lip
tasting like ferrous

cradling your skull
wiping tears
until there was famine
inside your chest

since then we broke loose
from the earth's axis
and I've become well versed
in the dynamics of free fall

and want nothing more
than to just hit the ground





1 comment:

The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!