Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

A music plays that we are born immune to

We cough cynical arpeggios
together on nights like this,
the sky a shipwreck of blasted
confetti. Without thimbles
on the eyes, moonlight is too much,
a mammoth whispering Yeats in
our ears as it violates us. Where is my
happiness? In my other pants pocket.
GerameeGeramee Hensley is from Cleveland, Ohio. He attends Capital University where he has taught a portion of a creative writing class and is the Co-Editor-in-Chief of the student literary magazine, ReCap. He is also the Managing Editor for the student newspaper, The Chimes. His work has been featured in Souvenir Lit Journal.

Categories: Poetry

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