i’m quiet in this poem/ consumed/
bullet by bullet, by what’s left/
of us. of what’s to come./
but who’s to say? the night/
is wide. arduous. doesn’t budge./
even for me. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Luther Hughes
Poetry by Luther Hughes
we have known death to be an accident,
but you fondle my grandfather
like a monsoon swiping its knuckle
against the blue cavernous mouth
Continue reading