Arsenic Lobster poetry journal        Issue Six   2004
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You are Walking in Circles in the Desert
Brady Rhoades

What a shame, you said, holding a match to the bed,
which dissolved like a woman in heat,
all possessions betray me, I hate them…

Your home was in ruins – everything burned, smashed up.

This sofa will not stay true, nor will fifty pistols,
or a hat…

You quit the job, closed accounts, divorced your wife.

You walked in circles in the desert
because the straight way had proved untrue.

Alexander, I want to disagree,
but can’t forget the walking hat that swept away,
the songbox singing odes to someone named Zoe.

We can no longer cleave to the sheets in despair.

The world suffers intolerable hunger.
The world which fed us for many years.

They say they see your shadow on the crestline.

I’m coming to the Valley of the Kings,
with wine to tenderize, and 29 prayers.

About Brady Rhoades

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