Revenge Slays

E.R.Smith, 2018

rebirth under moon

agitate prone muscles, burn

shape shift huntress, slay

ardent liaison with self

revenge body, pulls hot flames


Angel’s Ward

E.R.Smith, 2018

Folding wings against spine watching.

Ward never listens, not even to gypsy.

Gypsy said, your true love will not be handsome.

His heart will be rarer than platinum.

Ward creased her face, rejecting idea.

Ward is beautiful, thinks she earned handsome.

She smiles at just met stranger, my countenance drops.

Can’t she see muscles oiled by incarceration?

His grandmother stands, clueless aside check cashing place.

I blow wind, knocking away her cane.  She falters.

Oiled Muscle’s flirt never ceases, large man catches grandma.

‘Hey this how you treat your momma?’

Ward, shook, stares at man.

Scared face, work injury.  Cradling grandma likes she’s his.

Grandma staring wondrous, rarely receiving care.

‘Are you God?’

Ward’s eyes open, sees Muscle’s eyes on her breast, thighs, purse.

Computes the check cashing situation, sees the deficits.

Smiles at Sir stilling tending grandma, “you can put her down.”

“I’ll walk her home.”

Muscles chimes in yeah, we got this.

“No”, Ward warns, “I got this. You want me to walk you home Ms. Jean?”

I speak through Ms. Jean’s mind, ‘Ok hun if this knight comes along.’

Ward smiles, Knight smiles, shy.  I ply Ms. Jean’s mind again.

‘Got to see my shows, and I’m thirsty’

Ward speaks to Knight, “are you gonna put her down.”

Blow wind again, young hips wonder past; Muscles is occupied.

Knight gently settles grandma, pulls water from work sack.

Holds cold bottle to her lips.  Ward watches, wondrous.

Hears and accepts Gypsy.

Wonder at the job of Angels.

Know Thyself!

E.R. Smith, 2018

Looking through peep hole.

Scrutinize self, beside doctrine.

Cringe, never will be confused for Jesus.

Catalyst reality, requires prevarication.

Sacrificing time when disinterested, tough!

Would rather give blood, maybe even marrow.

Thinking fast on my feet, speed demon.

Raspy voice reaches through closed door.

“Not my best today, you know the flu’s  been about?!”

Jehovah’s witnesses back away, like my door’s lepers.

Their quick revulsion justifies my guile, the nerve!

No saviors in those church clothes either? Huh.

Misery loves this company, lackluster samaritans.

Going back to cozy sinful bed.

Rain Down A Window

E.R.Smith, 2018

Raining steady.

Waiting in donut shop, watching train staircase.

Focused gaze peers through window.

Hoping for a glimpse, but you’re off schedule.

Dark haired siren startles me, resembled you.

Donut shop crowded, rain coming hard.

A couple coming down stairs, looks like us.

Window blurs,  I retreat into mind.

Love  ways we loved, deep,  long,  sweaty.

Hate ways  we fought, deep, long,  vicious.

Want to apologize,  go back, retrace, erase.

Thunder slaps awake, realize it’s too late.

Lighting strikes, clears, I see you with him.

Know why you rescheduled.

There are no time machines.

There is only me, a rainy window,

what could have been.