Issue |
 |
March |
|
a poem by Dave Gregg
Entry
In truth
it was the stairs
I believe
there were
nineteen in all
I would charge
your place
through the
broken doors
throw myself up
those steps I
couldn't wait
to taste you
knowing you
were my
next meal
the hours
we played
decoding
the language
of fans
but all
those stairs
back down
I couldn't do
any longer
it was the stairs
I believe
there were
nineteen in all
I would charge
your place
through the
broken doors
throw myself up
those steps I
couldn't wait
to taste you
knowing you
were my
next meal
the hours
we played
decoding
the language
of fans
but all
those stairs
back down
I couldn't do
any longer