Dallas

cold colossus

crane your neck

to the dingy wool of sky.

the trees collide:

               all verdant and crashing—

 

bright flash

-es of green

               -ness against

 

the oyster lid,

wet and murky.

 

it’s almost brazen the way they

 

 

               bare

 

those shivering ornaments—

veins swollen with water

pulse with electric

chroma souls.

 

and the cars are beeping,

screeching 

tires shriek homage to the 

slick streets,

onyx sheets of asphalt

as they dodge

umbrella-huddled hunchbacks

that hopscotch

a    cr      o      s          s

puddled intersections.

 

pregnant sky,
Mother sky,
meets infant earth

with wailing city mouth

that drinks and drinks

her nectar.

 

Hallelujah
hallelujah
hallelu

-jah.

Kryston currently resides in New Jersey, but her heart and her home are in Texas. She writes poetry while on the train to her job at a boutique wine shop in NYC.

©2018 HighShelfPress. 

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