by L.M. Browning, except from Drive Through the Night


Ride this life hard

      —barebacked, bone-shaken.

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

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Be gentle long night, I don’t belong here. Thrown to the wolves, I shifted nocturnal.

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Out beyond the murkiness left by anger-tinted arguments, remember what you know in your heart and bring that truth close.

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