d.S. randoL
the black gumline
of knife is
best gripped against teeth
the clip snuck whole
on side - streets, far as needlepoint
near Granby
or Front St.,
what ever goes
down cold and whining, at the foot of bridges —
shackles & packs of
water, rolling around,
making love.
you awake, dimed and stoned, you
emerge from shadows casting
upon ground, you see
cans and spiced breeze all catapulting
into the ocean and the horizon and again
one line in the same, under
blood drips down your shirt.
d.S. randoL (they/them) is a delicate flower. d.S. randoL is a hardcore moshpit fiend. d.S randoL is trying to do the right thing and you can read more of their work at Roi Fainéant Press, Crab Apple Literary, Sledgehammer Lit, or on Twitter @dSrandoL.