Bear With Me: Prose Poem

Wait till I can blow out the dust a little bit more

Photo by hayden hatch on Unsplash

If the poets tell it —
ah, if they did it aright, there’d be some hope in this jail, in the squeamish mind that hops from genitals to janitors closets, looking for some love — is that what it is…

but bear —
I mean, keep in mind the setting sun
the darkness
like ravens that overpower…