Collective Unrest

 

darlings

November 9, 2018

find your horses and mount them/scream your name so they hear it
under the swamp/ we’ve lived
cold and terrible and gnashing/abundant, yet
keen

too late for you, tall man/ we’re
here with our own new torches/ long
ignited
strong

sour was your sentence
harrowed and false
interrogate yourself/real people say it’s
time

 

Tiffany Meuret is a writer and desert-dweller from Phoenix, Arizona. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Four Chambers Press, Eunoia Review, MoonPark Review, Martian, and others. Find her online at www.TiffanyMeuret.com or on Twitter @TMeuretBooks.

Please follow and like us:
error
Newer Post

How A Bridge Is Built

Click the link below to read Brennan DeFrisco's incredible poem, "How A Bridge Is Built." How A Bridge Is Built by Brennan DeFrisco     Brennan DeFrisco is a poet, spoken word artist & educator from the San Francisco Bay Area.…
Read
Older Post

Approaching San Francisco

Like a handmade model to scale; even lines, finely painted details. There’s a spot on the Bay Bridge where the picturesque city looks not quite real: a postcard or seagull’s low-flying periphery. Any moment, a guy dressed like a giant…
Read
Random Post

Impeachment Day

He’s ugly, stand behind me child. You’re safe now but — Look away. But, I want to see him. He is hideous. He has horns, and a forked tail, and holes where his eyes should be. Beauty is on the…
Read
Random Post

Taste the Edge

“Taste the edge and return to the middle. Taste the edge and return to the middle. Weapons mean nothing against the spirit.” Sam Pink is an author and artist. You can find him on Twitter @sampinkisalive and Instagram @sam_pink_art.
Read
Random Post

Newspaper Clippings

I tear news clippings from newspapers to remember flesh and blood martyrs.   Now please understand when I say that I don't want to get political,   But when my worth is questioned due to homophobia, I have reason to…
Read
Random Post

When Broken Is Broken

At this point, the ground is a close companion. After countless fainting spells, it’s like hugging a friend you haven’t seen recently. My arms don’t work like they used to. These fingers can’t open jars, legs wobble under the same…
Read