Concrete Love

Beaver’s Pick
Marchell Dyon Jefferson


I love NY & the Hand I'm Holding
Photo Credit: Jason L. Parks

I laugh at words. My mouth is open all the time. As I pass streets, not swell with petals, below a hazy city sun. When my face isn’t press to yours, I see a carnival of oil slick traffic kaleidoscopes. My vision blurs between bakery smells and armpit avenues that make my nose flare; on a very public bus, we get stares. A fat woman with her eyes dares us to stop what we’re doing, but like everyone else; she stares only long enough then leaves us alone. What a pair we are; a likely Romeo and Juliet and not like them at all. Our ebony faces defiant, making out in back seats. We are, all rev up in each tango taste, till saliva, melts away the tongue.

pencil

Marchell Dyon is from Chicago, IL. She has taken various poetry workshops; she is eternally addicted to audio books. She is currently working on her first chapbook. Her work has appeared in Ouroboros Review, West Ward Quarterly, Lily Review, and Corner Club Press. Email: marchelldyon[at]yahoo.com

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