He needs a place to live, so his father buys him a house.
Mid-40s, pale and lanky, black mohawk a foot high.
the sweet boy
he used to be
The heavy metal gravy train passed him by.
Still, he drums and wails daily, an unsung genius.
on a roll
wheeling trash cans
to the curb
Writing his autobiography, Ion roams the tract,
tracing circles in the dirt, staring into space.
the tired click
Six weeks in jail, then back to the same old,
same old—Uber rides to the store and rehab.
3 a.m. moonwalk
on the highway—
lives in the Mojave Desert. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including
Spillway, Crab Creek Review, Apercus, Askew, San Pedro River Review, Mojave River
Review, The Coil, and Split Rock Review, among others. Her work has been
nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. She is the author of nine poetry
collections and co-editor of the anthology A Bird Black As the Sun: California
Poets on Crows & Ravens.
Author’s website: www.cynthiaandersonpoet.com