torley

Soph Bonde/Argot Magazine. [Photo description: a wide avenue in a city at night, drenched in rain and lit by streetlights and string-lights wrapped around trees.]

some avenue. some narrow,
pitious side street. some
lightening bug carcasses
strung up, still beaming.
some oracle driver, some wet
night. some sullen tune you
can’t sing anymore. some
syllables...some syllables,
like horror. some horror.
some knot of tetanic muscle
fused into the front seat.
some flat note. some petty
wind blowing only through
this side of town. some entropy
caught in a wine glass. some
smoke, some talk, some graveyard
you haven’t gifted your body
to—yet. some kind, some rain;
some oceans in human form.
some signs. some salt

first for the wounds,
then for the demons.