awareness
a strange man’s strange name
on a strange piece of paper-
i confess
i have never wanted so badly
to drown someone.
to meet someone
in that dark alley
and run, get caught,
fight.
we are rolling
homemade cigarettes
on the front porch
of my childhood.
we choke on my father’s
sister’s ashes.
we have to believe
she fell asleep at the wheel.
you wring your hands
on barbed wire
talking about rocking horses
and broken pistols.
i look like i am listening.
there is nervous dancing after
a whiskey colored sundown.
a sensation
of swimming,
of drowning.
Courtney Marie is a writer currently residing in Denton, Texas. Her poetry, stories, and photography have appeared in various blogs and magazines, such as Disembodied Text and Austere Magazine. She is an avid reader and book collector, a great cook, musically inclined, and a cat person.
–Art by Dia Takácsová