March 2005 / Volume VI / Issue II
Jane Adam
Chain

hurts like a bitch
as they say
while iím smelling grass and gasoline
hearing my motor
grinding metallic & fleshy
& the sun shines on everything anyway
smell thatĖ 
sun on grass
sun smell forever laid
into that underground hurting
snagged and carried like a bright cloth in a
bicycle chain
around and around
a scrap of beauty snagged
in that bitch chain
RETURN to MARCH 2005