by Bill Yarrow
tomorrow's work I should go home
I wander toward the midnight dock
a neon sine curve stabs my eyes
I clutch my hollows like a brick
The future holds my brother's pain
my darkest fears by hopes inflate
a black gull dives a painter's gloves
the cobblestones deny the clouds
my wants and needs are not aligned
All rights reserved.
This poem was published in Caravel Literary Arts Journal.
"Fealty" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press, 2016).