Chapter 30
You said this place
would grind down on tired hearts
I towed my line, now I'll die on the sidewalk
the second the snow thaws.
So bury me salted, so I season the runoff.
Your hands claw, climbing
tear at skin and the topsoil,
grinding teeth down on pay dirt
then back-fill the screaming blanks
This city's swelling up
it's growing livid with stories
left untold beneath street lights,
so sharp-footed walkers
drain its veins after midnight.
And you're filled up--had enough
of the graphite sky.
but my
2 cents, flung into the Clark Fork
say I'm still zipped up
in the peppery cold and the dark
Still socked in,
write your name out in graphite
'til ink-dark clouds bruise the day through the sunlight
The swelling's going down, now
I'll die on the sidewalk
and knocked down pegs
leave the story untold and forgot.