A Soul In A City

I got the best – I’m double-edged
a soul made of numbers.
I brought back a green spirit,
a whisper of others.

She fell to her knees – heart tied
to a glance –
my stubborn alibi –
my handsome ax.

But the bait came with a chest,
and holes – the best part
laying on pavement –
a canvas of art,

one finger, two fingers,
creeping beneath
a tongue, and a breath
reaching skin deep

I kiss back the Whiskey –
holding my gasp –
just on the verge –
just over the edge

and there rises the west
with the sun upset –
the cherry is ripe –
but the seed is depressed.

The morning wakes up –
a cold soul is windy –
charcoal rains down –
get me out of this city.