the end unravels slow when i really
mean no, you can't take it with you. there's bad
blood between us, a mystery to solve.
as long as we're slanting, you only get
one chance. it don't take long to kill. the end
unravels fast looking for things to crush.
always at a crossroads, i see broken
people. into the evening, we used
to number things--these self-inflicted wounds,
the noises on the street. never too late
to try, we learn from each other. this time
you can trust me: we'll get there when we do.
the end unravels slow
my hands are just my heart is just my brain
is just my fear of darkness. my legs are
just my blood is just my bones asking me
to never let them be broken. never
cut me open. never ask why patterns
emerge in the middle of the night. my
hands belong to my arms belong to my
skin burning the spaces between your touch.
is it too much to confess what i want
when all that i want connects me to you?
my legs belong to my feet belong to
these streets wet with rain. i just want to win
all that i can before we reach the end.
Robert Lee Brewer is the editor of the Writer’s Market books, Poet’s Market and WritersMarket.com, in addition to maintaining the Poetic Asides blog for Writer's Digest. Brewer has published poems in several print and online publications.
Read the Caper Literary Journal interview with Robert here.