Hannibal and Scipio. An Historical Tragedy [in five acts and in verse], pg. 91 | 1637
So the code read industrial portraiture The lit red plastic of the dollar store Heroes eating deer in a gyroscope opera Or a decrepit hamlet, the boys huffing tires The girls in chamomile, gatherer of towns
Like pronouns desiring the heaven A public park with the tornado drawn in I dislike the bag of clothes How the iceberg beneath your fame And stylites impart wisdom, the necessary thing
Until a narrator veered. The car got Lost in the lot’s blue wing in the mall Triangles turn in the wind. These scenes Reached no book and we brushed The pool water, streamlined, presenting
Robert C.L. Crawford is an editor of Prelude (2016 Pushcart Prize) with poems appearing or forthcoming in Queen Mob's Teahouse, Flag + Void, Foundry Journal, Ladowich, Powder Keg, Golden Handcuffs Review, The Equalizer, TravelTainted, The Opiate, and White Wall Review.