Wish – Shine Ballard

The drop upon the brow


The leaky roof

has wept its way

into my dreams

Where should be a drip,

a drench christens


Although lintels,

like lungs, have plunged,

collapsing, or could,

i keep composed


Were i one to fret

over cryptic curiosities,

in such a sip i’d drown


i do not believe in omens

i don’t



The calm of august

She says She’s staying, a

gain, tonight, this evening,

and, before i begin, She

knows. She doesn’t want to

fight, nor argue. “please.” the

urge in me is to say

“no—” but what good is a

goad if the impulse it

self precludes the gory…

glory—hosanna. hosanna.






No one pens, mentions the merits

of muddy water Oft portrayed

as a ghast gush, or ghoulish pool—


most times, a difficulty writ

But i can remember running

shepherds on the levee two blocks

past a home i’d be pried from,

and it wasn’t a seeping breech,

a barrier failed which damned me

with deluge—the absence of such

cider currents seem to have cursed

me, gone That river, a tincture

of secondary nature, i

can’t wick free of Turbid being,

i’ll return to roily reason


To hell with your turquoise wetdream