Cynthia Cruz My Ohio

Jet black hair slicked back
Against his gorgeous head.
He comes to me
Carrying red
Ripped ribbons. He comes to me
On horse back. On silver
Swamp boat. Bells and beads of light.

Palace of melting
Flowers. Strings of the electric, black
As fly wings, as film reel, as God's
Damaged mind. With spurs, blossoms
Dragged up
From the other world, my Ohio. My
Brave, broken wolf.


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