“Triggers” by Bernie DeVille

224 Replies

A waft of smoke from the
fresh lit cigarette around the brick corner
hits just right, tickling the gag reflex of history.
A hemorrhage of spewing memories hits the floor.
Chunks from that needful, hungry time,
of deep holes shored up with addictive timbers,
the entrails from notebooks no longer looked at.
There was never a fearless time, a young approach.
Peeking around the corner, wondering what nutritional content
was lost when she was growing, what weight of experience bent her back,
what barren fields have hunched her frame and put the shuffle in her step.
Nauseated,
the character of the smoke changes.

-Bernie DeVille

224 thoughts on ““Triggers” by Bernie DeVille”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *