Demons And Other Monsters

When August comes, something shifts

two degrees to the South

I spend lots of money,

drink too much,

tear up for no good reason

and when it’s time to peel off my linen halter dress

long bars of sweat forming sour shadows

in  the dark skin beneath my tits

I’m reminded why I’m in  Fort Wayne Indiana again,

sifting through fire singed artifacts,

and next-of-kin forms

It’s easy to forget the comfort I found in the Presidential lounge

drinking whiskey straight up

beneath graying oils of Republicans

made uncomfortable by grief and how

we blew ashes from our noses for weeks

Every morning  wake up

demand my girlfriend tell me

why the bathroom stinks

like cigarette smoke and purple vomit

I stand at the porcelain sink we share

stained the color of old bones

I can’t seem to scrub away

the grim imprint of death

pressed into my face

swollen and white like tortilla dough

No one has the heart to tell me

the woods and the hills are no longer burning

the sky has stopped raining its twisted ash

it is time to wash the campfire smell from my hair

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