[Oft reminded of thought’s quickness in a croak of noise]
Adam Clay

Oft reminded of thought’s quickness in a croak of noise

from a trustworthy messenger,

 

a waitress unloved.

 

The gravity of liberty groans savagely

 

and make no mistake: I know cavaliers

dream of violence.

 

They dream of denial’s twisting corridor.

 

I dream of dancing on the table. The glasses destroyed to ash.

 

What I can offer to the night: a photograph of bodies

in the river and the ravens above it forming a river all its own.