Brevet Wilson Poems
Comments about Brevet Wilson
9 Miles On A Dirty Futon
I spent nine miles with her.
in a cheap apartment.
Boxed wine and cheeses with exotic sounding names.
Eaten on a blanket on the floor as we had no table.
we had no couch,
we had no television.
But we had music.
At night we would lay on a futon matress
that layed on the floor.
The streetlight outside the bedroom window playing shadows across sections of her.
First her eyes were lit, the rest of her awash in shadows,
when she turned,
her mouth was visible,
but her eyes were shadowed.
A breast, a thigh, her hair all illuminated
Sign Here, Please:
At 43 my body is a twisted wreckage of scar tissue.
Most of them are from people I know or knew.
Cigarette burns (many of them) ,
A large cut left by a pair of scissors wielded by a crazy girl I dated,
Claw marks on my back, sex scars, another crazy girl with 'lee press on talons'.
My teeth were knocked out in a few fights (over women and heroin) .
I now wear dentures.
There is a one from being hit with a frying pan in the head