From PROBLEMS AND MIRACLES by Ryan Davis:
A P
O E M W I T H O U T
A N U M B E R
A S I
T S T I T L E
we walked for miles on our Achilles’ heels,
or knees, I guess, in this case,
across his town
on a path of snakes in wet sand,
speaking, as if it were what made our legs move,
like old friends
about the state of things,
our nearness to the city lights,
and that which we did and did not believe
about the writing of our sequels.
we walked
until we were no longer
belonging to that place,
but to the arms that always held me
a little past my mother’s bedtime.
dim and concrete,
still sounding of aerosol,
still tasting of laughter
and lies.
just little ones.
I have been held by none truer since.
and my mouth, it did not bleed
when a smile cracked my lips.
nor did his
as he stared to the stomping grounds
and asked me,
“if you love it so much,
why don’t you marry it?”
I just told him to keep his voice down,
that these walls have ears,
and he agreed,
shifting his focus
to the coolest thing he had ever seen:
a giant horse made out of candy.