BY BRIAN LOMBARDI
Dying looks like a Velvet Underground song.
I’d die twice for a listen.
Werewolves swallow me whole,
and the moon stared down at it.
Broken branches stand bent out like submarine scopes.
Whose god did you see?
They say vain so you watch your front and back.
You brought a map to a maze with the right idea
going in the wrong direction.
We the boring care very much for the beautiful.
I am naked with Edward Hopper.
I am one of his lonely women.
I hope we round a corner away
from everyone, as an earthquake
trips our bodies into each other
and I land on your lips.
I’d hope to stay like that all night,
and so I wait on natural disaster.