"John Wayne"

I must disrupt this.

Put a ripple to cast a thousand waves

shaken by a moment. A whirlpool if no other

gratified by the less reasonable gods, my nod 

to the pickers of the hung backs and perhaps 

plumbers ass from seeking seed from cherry. 

This is my moment. 

My epic John Wayne blacker than soul, blacker than hell, blacker than night

to create a internal struggle with my insomniac mind

teetering between dusk and when 

babies suckle at their pacifiers, greeting

the infamous Sandman that alludes me. 

I must disrupt this.

Cup of black rain and indulge

what my nerves do not necessitate. I dare

hesitate sniffing and grinning, my own

silent treatment of alone time that I 

hoard over like the last piece of meat in a dog's bowl.

Do I even begin to be a little less cowgirl and more

Ice cream parlor patron, sprinkling unnecessary sweet

on the heavy cold world that tries to screw me over?

I won't even give a strong nod to the 

reason why I must sugarcoat this orb separated by 

atlases, and surely find a way to raise my glasses that peek 

over page 117 of Angela's Ashes. Just this moment, cream free

and sugar willing-I sprinkle a dash. 

Drink my coffee piping hot

Remembering tomorrow will soon be my past. 

-b.r.rivera-taylor

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