Clandestine
by Alexander Balsamo
III.
Breeze through opened door freezing
burnt coffee grinds, burnt blowing by
the singing steam away from ol
factory, emotions held, bloody eye towards
stiff lip, bruised abdomen, broken / cup held towards
him, “small red eye”
II.
A bundle of sticks fueling fire to keep farm,
family, rooster, hen, inhaling
thriving through winter’s misfortune could
not take swift strikes back through November’s air, stolen from gut
more with words:
him, “cocksucking faggot”
I.
Wisps required close contact, though
window could have been shut and
blanket could have been wrapped and
warmth words could have been said
they lay together bare, he thankful for