Windows in Plastic (M.A. Reilly) |
BREWERY OVERLOOKING THE GENESEE RIVER
by Dan Kraines
Finally, the winter subsides and the river melts
or, almost—snowing in April,
I could always drug myself, I know
that would make the weeks a drift,
instead of swaying between Mars and the moon,
days waiting for the end of days, mornings
spent in bed—the drill
of the depressive who hates the sun
(but needs its light). Am I the billiard ball
spinning without contact straight
sunk into a pocket? The whole bar
quiets. Pinned inside of a booth,
against the wall, I’m screaming
within myself, the snow
falling, thickly, whitening as it melts.
or, almost—snowing in April,
I could always drug myself, I know
that would make the weeks a drift,
instead of swaying between Mars and the moon,
days waiting for the end of days, mornings
spent in bed—the drill
of the depressive who hates the sun
(but needs its light). Am I the billiard ball
spinning without contact straight
sunk into a pocket? The whole bar
quiets. Pinned inside of a booth,
against the wall, I’m screaming
within myself, the snow
falling, thickly, whitening as it melts.
Published in Two Peach, an online Literary Magazine.
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