John Bryan

came to see me at my place
whirring up my stairs, a wasp's bus,
into my room, bloody handprints footprints,
smeared with dirt, on my door
i could not make her sit down
her outfit both dress and veil,
pending if her head and shoulders was
above the rest, panties wet
from exhertion or ecstacy
went to Uriarah Xsing where she
worried the fish and alternated currents
with this repetition of limbs
which barely allowed her to surface and breathe
flinging herself down cliffs to rewind up the other side
as if no choice in the matter
at the supermarket, all items, once broken,
are considered sold, lifted off the shelves,
no amount of restraining could undo
what poltergiests only dream of,
but she left me, on a field, downhill toward
a road, her a L r E m G s S
sharing the responsibility of
keeping her upright, hurling her at traffic, graciously
swerving, and eventually out of sight,
her continuum, implied indefinately.
in olden days,
they used to lock chicks up
for hysteria, rolling their eyes,
bending certain ways;
but this one my mnemonics will state had a nice personality
and a superstitious distrust of cracks
littering the pavement of her directions

John Bryan hes been published in various journals, including Unlikely Stories, The Muse Apprentice Guild, Taint Magazine, A Man Overboard, 3AM Magazine, canwehaveourballback, Locust Magazine, Stirring, Sometimes City, Plum Ruby Review, Retort Magazine, Wilmington Blues, Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry, Identity Theory, SideReality, and Ink Magazine to name a few.