Lingers Poem by Eric Cockrell

shotgun shells,
and kentucky bourbon;
long howling nights,
bound by the moon/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.

the fiddle weeps,
while the mandolin prays.
old hat pulled down,
feet dance to the sound/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood...
lingers...

broke down and busted,
carried by the darkness.
fists pound the walls,
but there's no one home/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
woman, smell and touch,
sucks the light from empty.
she rolls me over,
cries out like a cat/

teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.