Amy Wales

I Do Not Write Love Poetry

but memoirs  on your arcs  pilings  of tobacco  peppered question  marks  morning  it is raining  paraoxysms from my crown  wordlessly you pour for me tempers tremors now dusk I am awake again here another drought I silhouette  your body softly  smoke you out Photo credits: Photo by Robert Ruggiero on Unsplash

Gutter Talk

early mornings in plettenberg bay five am & the sun was not yet high  but it was warm still and bright  plett sun is a different breed rich was by my side back then & red flocks flew west when they heard  that laugh hingeless & hungered & hollering oorah those ears car  doors on […]