Flying a little kite
by Kathryn R. Rieber
it’s all
hard rock
& steady
when you’ve
only got you
to listen to
saying
oh baby girl
hop off that
solo train
come ride
the
night
w/ me
it is tiny
& my shoes
are wet
warm pieces of
technicolored
glass spaceship
what does it
want to do?
hunny sure
did drink.
armor of amore
of punk lust &
fiendish fuck talk
w/ little white
socks on the
little white
best western
bed.
he is this sort of
desert thing.
dark berry,
sacrificed
female.
some where
two birds,
busy
being
born.
Kathryn R. Rieber is a contributing writer to the Village Star Revue’s arts section. She can be found mulling about MacDougal on idle evenings, indiscriminately scribbling at round little tables, thinking round little thoughts. Her poems “Ode to Winter Solstice” and “fractured legs America” appeared in previous issues of The Gotham Guillotine.
Picture Credit: Kathryn R. Rieber
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