INVITATION

By John Francis Antal

a monologue of the lonely 

this world is full

of hidden celestial blockages

and pipe cracks

in the evenings

the salt pans of solitude heat up

asthmatic silence gasps

the waist of nothingness crunches

in the sanctuaries of the alleys

your unpronounceable name

beats on the windows

it knocks hard like a crow's beak

your speechlessness is

like fainted nights

the dawn comes

with two-finger deep gulps

time to go home

the evil branch

the evil flower

of the bending ash

await us

embrace me little pixie

take care of my graying bones

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