by L.M. Browning, except from Drive Through the Night a collection of poems forthcoming late 2020.
Ride this life hard
Wrap your legs tight
—thighs around her rib cage, pounding.
Take hold in the rush
—fingers tangled in her mane, entwined.
Don’t look back,
there is nothing for you there.
Recent Poetry Posts
we might outrun the sun
and not see the sight awaiting
in the bare daylight
I hear the voice of god in the hum of the neon sign at the rest stop, where the caravan of displaced desperadoes and expats post-up for the bottomless cup of coffee….
Be gentle long night, I don’t belong here. Thrown to the wolves, I shifted nocturnal.