Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

hidden in the hay loft

kentucky red clay is hard
dried on the sole
of a man’s shoe
cruel to the feet
and the chambers of his heart

guns faster
cries louder
tears bigger
graves deeper
gypsies meaner

our secrets hidden in the hay loft

insects and preachers more willing to take a bite

and the winding road down through the holler
leads you to the still behind the altar
where the moonshine will kill you
just for spite

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s