black and white films about the blues

walden freeman

i spend my days
boiling bays and pulling
teeth from strangers
and carpets from underneath
my own feet

and giving in

i'd like to survive
each meteor shower;
remake myself slower
and more susceptible
to shattering-earth plot twists

where i'll be afraid
and a frayed knot
hanging and banging
on doors, my face
has begun to bleed
through my mother's cloth