Destini Vaile

Hobo


         voice licks the green shoot
Where violin burrows his furred stems
         and fox bites her furled tail
As you let down sips of bergamot

I can’t capture you there
Except to say    the span of your locked arm
Except to say    you let the spider live on your desk plant
Because he might not warp your skin

And you sing to him with a voice like apples
Even as I gulp bitter petals on the couch



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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!