by Alexander Balsamo




                                                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”




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”




                                                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


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