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BLACKROCK by lucien quincy senna

BLACKROCK



Always say you hunger for me
then maybe it will be true
Puss in Boots
as you strut the saddest tale
by the Liffey
its iron lacing.
I can only make this walk
with you
so far huffing
thrusting like a crowd
at the hastening
the longest walk.

Wait for me pale blue child
meet me at the edges
make me peril of your
hush heavy hands
a farmer’s boy
fond of my obscenities
waves of unknown bells and carnal yells
bronze girl thundering
the forgotten streets of Blackrock
already too dark and too late
for love
for teenage goodbyes made.

Photo: Celbridge Abbey, County Kildare, Ireland (above); Black Rock City, Nevada (below). 

Posted on December 14th, 2011
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