The Poetry of Frankie Metro

Just another underpass analogy by Frankie Metro

In flea traps
where nerves are stringent
like starved coy,
a focal point not altogether
centered
is delegated
among withered sunflowers;

& urine in the muddy river.

Black crosses are mounted along
the shore
with jolly rogers stapled to poorly-
painted
wings
that
belong
to
the Devil of cut up methods.

A new colony of rot
is formed along the bank,
offering sentient beings
½ price
as pack mules
for future construction.

Someone relieves the
hero of his long jacket,
mistakes him for a
ghoul in a straw hat,
& the hero
shrieks
with
loosened
apprehension;

forbade the thought of
anyone recognizing him
in these respectable shadows
before this very moment.

Where does it all
come from?
a voyeur asks,
quickly snuffed out
like the motive wicks
of travelers’
saints.

The Acid Knife Couple Below My Perch by Frankie Metro

Betraying the shape of owl
feathers in the skin of trees
with its depth,
the stranger’s far-away knife
just missed her head by
an inch.

Whether by accident
or drug-addled default
or blind luck,
the stranger missed…

She pulled the blade
from the trunk,
folded it back
(neverminding the
superstitions
about closing a stranger’s
knife
e.g. the bad juju promised
to follow)
& remarked how beautiful it
was frozen in her hand,
how delicate the autumn sunset
made her fingers look
& how clean the ground was
beneath her.

The stranger,
who was very familiar with
the brand name on the hilt,
asked if she wanted to
keep it as a souvenir,
tossing dry oak leaves
over their heads like
warm confetti.

The stranger laughed
when she refused,
reiterating how
a good knife,
like the knife that missed
from close & intimate
vicinity,
was important to have
in a city like this.

She giggled and thanked him
again for the offer,
assuring the stranger
it would
eventually get lost in her
possession…

never letting on to the fact
that she carried
a .44 Ruger Redhawk
in her
Alouring Moments handbag.

Frankie Metro