21 JUMP STREET
The acronyms change, post-trauma.
As the reverend communes, a man’s body begins to shake.
I subtitle my conversation w/ God.
Another study in mysticism.
Muffled background noise.
The boat rocks & I think of Aaliyah.
Just a few moments of this life, what am I able to rebuke?
The harboring. The slow descent.
Enough w/ a capital E.
I write each letter knowing it arrives unread.
Each anxious stroke of my neck is in anticipation of the knife.
However sharp is this age of Aquarius.
Every once in awhile Paul Mooney’s HNIC, so aim for the stars.
You might land on a cloud, still curious of angels.
Mike Crossley works late nights. He is Pushcart & Best of the Net nominated with work in places like Prelude Magazine, Pool Poetry, Apogee and Columbia Poetry Review. www.mikecrossley.com