Hell of a Drug

Sitting beneath the trestle
bundled against November.
the illegal pipe glows
beneath winter quelled stars
and the Kootenai River
rakes the questions downstream.

“When is a home no longer a home?”
“who the fuck knows?”

Take another hit of depression,
breathe deep, feel the lungs
recoil from the smoke.

A traffic jam of Canadian geese
air rage honk on southward skyways.
Glacial winds scratch the cheeks
with snow spattered fingernails.

Take another hit of depression,
inhale the ashes of pain
chiseled into the double helix.

Depression is a boulder crushing
the spinal column, the skull, the ribs
like the metallic growl of the wheels above
once crushed the face of a trapped penny
as they dragged their cargo across.


Nathan Tompkins



© 1 February, 2021-Into The Void