by G. Roe Upshaw
What blithe requiescence there must’ve been
While Noah’s world was being drowned:
A deluge expects nothing from nobody, and
Expects you to expect the same, cause
A downpour always dwindles. Then doors open,
Expectation pandiculates under a workaday rainbow,
Sending scrunched shoulders in their upturned collars
Through the mizzle on a two-hundred mile pilgrimage
To wound their gazes on my window, staring
At the queer boy tossing bones
Into a fire, wheeling and singing
Jealous junky pistol songs to stick up the sky,
To rob it of its rain.
G. Roe Upshaw is a sniveling, scribbling scrivener placed variously around the United States. He works tirelessly at his lyrics and his books, and works tiresomely at most everything else. He is honored to be included as a part of BONED.