to the dark-haired woman:

I didn’t ask for this

your doorway the only warmth for miles

no wonder the others litter the road

corpses

who never knew the threshold

only drawn in by swirling dust in your wake

reveling in the same moonlight

you used to paint faces

where the road ends

—

If you want to hear poetry from some Denver poets you can find episodes of my show, The Poets, over at thepoets.co

Cheers!

—

Photo by Ekaterina Astakhova