Glass: A Journal of Poetry Volume Two Issue One       

Anastasia Clark

Epitaphs in the Alley 

We traded epitaphs
In a back alley

Near the stolen tracks

And we made
A fire pit there

With our dirty coats
And moldy hats

And watched it rise
In a sultry mist

Of lime green hate
And red hot love-

And we blew bubbles
With our purple tongues
And champagne lips

And prayed a
Hundred sonnets there

On a secret bench
In a long-dead alley

And finally-
We saw the stars.