muscle and bone and alcohol 

three in the morning siren call

haunted by the shape of a body 

echoing thoughts; the city’s empty 

 

panther haunches move across 

a day burned out by what you’ve done

it can’t be shared with god

you can’t be absolved 

 

holding a promise as wide as America 

by the time they tore you down 

you were exiled  

inspiration hits with a gut punch

 

concrete broken on a page a day 

anything more is an excess 

turn the page for Irwin Shaw

he’s under every step you walk