Brunswick. January. 35 Degrees
Behind each eyelid,
a mirage,
having entered
a dark room from light
ripple from tar to sky
illusion of narrowness
up ahead
on this road of hookah cafes,
gaudy bridal shops,
and gilded Italian bedheads
The Poetry and Writing of Lou Smith
Brunswick. January. 35 Degrees
Behind each eyelid,
a mirage,
having entered
a dark room from light
ripple from tar to sky
illusion of narrowness
up ahead
on this road of hookah cafes,
gaudy bridal shops,
and gilded Italian bedheads