Poem by Charlotte Blair
February 15, 2023
Can’t Buy That Harley Now
It’s hard to measure foreboding in facts yet one thing serves to cool my thirsty ghost — me and my sister drunk, comparing tats. I gave him several thousand in advance thinking to take him seven days at most — it’s hard to measure foreboding in facts. He disappeared from mutual contacts my money gone, naught to do but toast — me and my sister drunk, comparing tats. If he’d been first to lie to me, perhaps I’d understand how I’d let instinct coast — it’s hard to measure foreboding in facts. We blunder through this world, lit acrobats our hopes for requite compassion topmost — me and my sister drunk, comparing tats. Our kayaks glide beside wizened muskrats we’ll spend our afternoon wildlife engrossed — it’s hard to measure foreboding in facts. Me and my sister drunk, comparing tats.
About Charlotte Blair
Charlotte Blair is at peace when surrounded by fresh poems, time-sweetened dogs, classic Harleys and rebellious friends. She has only recently begun to send her poetry out into the world to fend for itself, finding homes in journals like Arboreal, The Road Less Travelled, Blue Unicorn, and The Banister.