Best Poem of M. Ayodele Heath

Lovesong At The End Of The World
Love, I have fallen desperately
out of orbit, clutching only this blazing heart-
shaped chute. Even after you were the last

oxygen molecule in my vacuous universe, I inhaled
deeply. I consumed
you. By the time these echoes
of light reach you, I will be a forgotten . . .
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This is a place where when tomorrow's Easter Sunday & you ain't got no money, the barber tell ya Boy, you betta get up in this chair & don't even look at you funny

& y'all still listen to the Braves on that same A.M. radio he heard Hank break Babe record back in 1974

Where old folks on the front porch . . .
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