Darlin' Blue.

Every song he sang
contained the word
darlin’
He had this cane, carved
that told stories like him
Twisted legs and vacant
stare, he’d take much too long
to say nothing much
And I’d stifle my yawns
try to smile
back away like I had somewhere to go

They called him “Blue”
and it fit
His far-away eyes remembering
youth and strength and local fame
Country rock royalty in a kingdom
of coal miners and cowboys




She was laughing when I
answered the phone
at some background joke
then she shifted gears,
feigned somberness as she
delivered the news

I was angry
because she enjoyed it
this mocked seriousness
and I wondered what if
he called me because she
dropped her pipe
and her heart revolted

This is how it ends:
Blue alone
No smell of booze
The sebaceous gel
infused with morphine
thick on his tongue
did not care

*author's note: this poem is a work in progress.