Mark The Place
I'll take you in the sharp and hollowed wood,
Moving like the world was stripped away.
Tearing into steaming teeth.
A rabid dog meets another.
Give me a drink of
Salting heavy tongue
In such bloody fires.
I'll take you to the baited breath,
Where the riders meet,
Whispering to their horses
Against a red desert sky.
Mark the place on scarlet brown skin.
That's where my lips belong.
C.M. Crockford is a writer on the autistic spectrum living in Philadelphia, PA. His work has been published in Ethos Literary Journal, Paradise In Limbo Magazine, and Oddball Magazine among others. He also a columnist in No Recess Magazine.