Dust and Old Wool

This poem is a "single" for the book "Johnny Boy's Bones" coming out early next year.

Alone. Broken.
The ridges—
straining, jagged—
cut into the sky.

They kiss the void,
blue and vast,
something I don’t understand,
never will.

The wind howls
through the cracks—
cold, brutal—
and I’m standing here,
waiting,
hoping.

She waits too—
just beyond the line.
Too many damn days.
Too many hours
lost in nothing.
Wondering if I’ll ever make it.

The gravel
grinds through…