Volume Two, Issue 4

from Music and Lemonade

Darryl Wawa

As you wish

This petty shadow I can’t seem to shake
from this disk of moon shining
                                         could I have thrown it there?
the glory and conquest of my loins
                                              I had wanted to give you
this shadow
                     shows your face
and the light, your fear
                    Forgive me
I did not know
that I could crack and crush
and of course for wanting to taste
                        the oblivion of glory
and wet blades of grass
                                on my feet
to tell me of ground and thunder
To be fair I must shrink
                    before I leave you


On the speakers Slipknot's
"Psychosocial": The martyr in me
Not sure if I'm hearing myself
        or the song
There isn't much light
just the computer on, like a tonic
which allows me to see only what I need
     and the flame of candle or two
makes a semi awkward
semi liquid dance I mimic
with their breasts
these whores I bring here some nights
       as broken as the city
cracks too deep for hiding
sad eyes, busted jaws
crushed youth
The occasional 'just fuck me' sprawl
a clock of purchased intimacy
     it’s like fucking yourself

But she has struck a chord in my heart
         this one
And gestures are not wasted with her
not anger
not even shame
as if the payment upfront
guaranteed honesty

           I like that she enjoys
her leverage over me.

Wishing for a fig in winter

That love should be enjoyed like a fruit
Epictetus made me think of you
made me think of how I feel it now
how I felt that winter with you
when Miami got around 50 degrees
and we warmed each other in bed at night
He talks about the warm sad feeling in the heart
the exquisite sorrow
How long should I hold on to you?
Our apartment
and all the rooms perfumed of you
You had a name for your smell, I will not share
Those cold shivers down my neck
and back from the coldest winter recorded there
your fresh skin against mine
Funny how we loved each most on our first cold winter
and our last summer riding in a car with no A/C
our intimacy mingled in sweat
It was a prefect parting seen in retrospect
as if the ice had actually preserved our love
and then that summer heat melted it dry
even our sweaty vapors on the windshield
gone, less than air


I'm no thief or liar
Who takes pleasure in plucking this plight
             to the raw wound
to see it and heal it
As I bang dishes for drums
the drain sounds like

maggots quenching their thirst
in an endless hole of power and not
How shit fits
in a gut
get that         suck
                  sick, sack

‘To be or not to be’
or to rot and die in piece

Darryl Wawa: "I am a Port-au-Prince born Haitian-American who studied Photography and Creative writing. I enjoy chocolate and good books. That said, maybe a movie is a good book. I love to work with images and words and their pairing."

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