CRNA RUKA

I spend my life on trains

Or it is one train

Assigned to me

Ferrying is costly as is payment to Charon

Journey into the cold world you don’t see

I pay the toll and am ferried –

I bustle my way out, soft bodies distorting

Red dots in front of me because I held in a cough

through the barriers after I pay another little toll

Out of paper

My hands stay wet in a cold sun,

Pleasure forms in a sideways glance, a pool of or in an eye,

forms in fragile wig-lines waving from the forehead.

Wetted hands to bolster the man, draining the pool of pleasure

I have the black hand the black hand blues

BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND

BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND

BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND

BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND

BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND BLACK HAND