Thursday, July 14, 2011

Dmitri





Thrown off the mountain
path I was back on the bike

before the pain could communicate

my older brother racing up
ahead of me. My handlebars

and wheel were at cross-purposes.

My leg was skinned. And yet
I would not feel it. I would

have chased him into any
abandoned bunker or brothel.

I would have chased him over his
godforsaken edge