By El Dopa
his head with eyes
that glare like pieces of hail,
his chest like a morgue of
sleeping umbrellas and wire-bound birds,
his soul a cat that jumps over
the moon, each night, to teach the wolf
a lesson (who lunges at the cat,
each night, and each night, misses).
About the author:
El Dopa is a former truck driver and professional wrestler who now lives in a trailer park in Big Tuna, TX where he runs Luchador Press and is also a passionate HAMM radio enthusiast. He may be reached at email@example.com.