Planet Unrequitia Poem # 6 Poem by Warren Falcon

We take our ragged bones out
of rented rooms for long walks.
You point out between bricks
the rainbows in windows,
the dirt now become your dirt,
your genius for transformations.

Back inside our rooms, last
castrati sings on the radio.
Enter winter under the door crack.
This becomes an event,
the retelling in high C -

Today sweet Molly with the black eye
and the cut on her breast cried then
decided to return home to Bud who
beats her when she's drunk.

I tried to talk her out of going
but she was going and she went.