Andrew Weigl

Moon-Faced Boy

No more

And them sure go fast don’t they

Our livings

Our dyings and our reborns

Our crossing over

And I grapple with the vicious

In the dark

Inside a one-room efficiency

And go to work always

And pray to the east in Queens

Near Q bridge dunna

Alone and paint in the sunrise

Talking to my mellow shadows

Hang a khafa on the lamp

Stack my mono up high and neat

And vacuum up my tears

Some where to be

But no where to go

Back to my room

Back to my room

Where the walls grow higher

I grow smaller

I move with my eyes closed

Won’t dare to look out the window

And name my nothings

And admit to ghosts

My vanities and monster action

I dun it all and watched it burn

The smell of sulfur from a match tip