Calle De Muerto
she laughed. death stood still
and watched her ride all over its edges,
she laughed at cloud shaped skulls
raining in sheets down cheeks.
she laughed.
there was a road in spain
that no one drove alone.
calle de muerto, high in the
mountains, surrounded by sea
she laughed at danger, she
laughed at cliffs, she laughed
at the world tilted at unbareable angles.
her careless smile caught the edges
of the universe, unforgivingly steep.
there was a road in spain
that no one drove alone.
calle de muerto, high in the
mountains, surrounded by the sea.
posted by swordpoet @ 3:25 PM
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