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Here in the verdant meadows

All on a summer’s day

The dreaded army of the dark

Met with the noble fey

They fought until the long sundown

And the lost blood of the dead

Soaked into the sacred ground

And turned the roses red


When the fight was over

And the legion of the flies

Had swarmed across the corpses

Stealing hope from sightless eyes


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Between the last customer

and morning light

in the parking lot of the Korean Gentleman's Club,

he picks lilacs for me.

Standing high against a warehouse wall,

these always bloom early, and 

he goes annually, covertly, in the still dark,

unsure of welcome by the

Korean Gentlemen.

He fills the car.


I imagine that damp, spring-scented ride home,

his fantasy of be...

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