words by dominic riccitello

how it went from beating
to detonating
and evaporating
we bathed our sorrows
in a bottle of belvedere
near your old rocking chair
the sweater near your heater
love in a hotel room
we went from renaissance
to resistance
depth to shallowness
a religion of never
twined in the darkness
of those eyes
dark brown hair
a gloomy kindness
with white noise
which stung instead of sang