Poetry 2015 / Volume 46

We were playing shuffleboard at the Last Chance Saloon when a fight broke out on the tile-chipped dance floor — Brian Collier

to the tune of the guttural rumblings of “Skynrd’s Innyrds,” fists craving communion with jaw, neck, mouths broke in slurred epitaphs of human decency. And then there was you: indecipherably dancing amidst the cacophony of spit and beer, light years away from the fray but maybe feasting on all of it, creature of the wheel … Continue reading