Voices Across Dark Water
Voices carry across dark water by heavy air
Air that escapes dying things
Because the air is still alive
Just like the Kit
Mauled in the red barn
Its eyes still fresh and dewy
The image sticks like burnt honey
On the edge of a fledgling knife
That tastes of tawny and coarse hair
Fresh death is bizarre
We’re hazards on the road in a fog
We flash red when alarmed
What made me think of Eden?
When the last time I saw empathy
Was the trail horse neighing at the mare
In a lyrical sun, setting beyond a hill with no name?
A Collection of Poems
Corey Michael Hines is a Brooklyn-based writer and poet with roots spread across the American South. He received his BFA in Writing from the Savannah College of Art and Design in 2014 and has been featured in Volume Poetry, Artemis, le NAVIGATEUR, and Oxford American’s Eyes on the South.
1–2 minutes
honeycomblit.org 
Leave a comment