Free Fall in Crimson


She met him in a hurricane,
A churbulance of blust and wonder,
A chaos of palms
Where nothing but their moment made sense,
Where sign posts whined,
And Criss Craft waited, eyes glassy,
Intersected, grounded in four lane streets
‘neath twisted dead eyed lights.

Freights of box cars and steel,
Derailed, torn from their home.
Their tears, missiles crying like mortars
From an endless black sky.
Her passion was momentous,
A riot of wind deadened screams,
A free fall in crimson,
Run through on the blade of tarnished hope.

She fell through his dreams,
No net to hold her,
His web of hope a vice,
A seductive garrote,
Choking every breath,
Its cord, its collar at her inner skin.
It rented their tomorrows
Until it reached her heart.
Their blood in tears,
A free fall in crimson,
Both of them bleeding, in love.