Her Kiss with a Fragrance of Beer
Two people crumb-
ling into clouds
Her dripping racoon of a man
Daylight hugs that biting supernova,
marigold arms trickling over nightmares,
Leaving drips of whispers
and washes plumb lips over
a sawdust cheek
Spinal cord and fingernail moons
Tightening and clapping her
Budweiser breath with my own
chapped lips
Lest the cerulean universe
wage war against lace concrete,
I’ll paint this sticky world green.
-Tyler Martin, 2015
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