Sex and Murder Magazine

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By Walter Conley

the in-dash clock
reads 3:17

there's a
low-desert glow
in the foothills

i blow

light after light
from i-10 to the end
don't even slow

your st. somebody
charm bites
into my hand

i pray to him
that my will
holds till
i punch him

through the glass
the earth
the heart of this
bad mountain

he will silence
my cry

he will take
me home

he will carry me
back into you
and through
what we
will never be

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