New Year

By Teddy Hempstead

Man by blue wall entering hotel; landscape
portrait of a gangster wearing blue entering a hole
in a wall; blue night which cloaks a man who skulks
bushes outside a crowded summer home; Sharon Tate’s
blue sheets; blue eyes falling far away over a cliff,
clutching space, ears full of traffic, discovering how
fast saliva moves to block the throat, how fear tastes
and what gravity really means; the blue of the sea,
which wraps slave ships manned by pirate car thieves;
blue the eskimo, skin on black hair buried with sweet
memories of warm fruits, saying to each other ‘what
are we doing here’; blue pen striking heavy paper,
bald strokes which cleave cream without warning;
blues music, Christmas music, ass vibrations.

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