Member-only story
Free verse and loss
Liquefaction in the Daze
In loving memory of Brandi Scanlon
I scour the halo from my bones in denial. This ending of yours comes unbound from the pages of Marvel, where we’d scamper the waywards of New Orleans to ride mechanical bulls and squat on thrones.
I am amiss in the stream of a wildfire on this laptop atop photos of a courtyard and a tavern drive-by, crumpling to ash like a ScanTron of Bourbon Street swirled up and ablaze with mountains in lackluster. Sierra Madre and Jackson Square sashay to fire in the picture of your eyes. Your hair lashes in tongues where wild roses mottle to carbon with the loss of your sass.
I lack the comfort with self in the joy of you.
Ramshackle is the dawn in homage to tales of Loki and Iron Man whispering in light streaming through a broken shade missing beads from Katrina. Boxes fall over with memories teaming faux pearls and sword-shaped pens out of ink for the bluster of our sonnets.
Goodbye 3000, my beloved friend.
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