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Kevin James Salveson
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November Sunset
A neon sky
like an unpeeled clementine,
hanging --blood bright--
in the bare
branches of the Lord.
The Creator let it drop of its own
rotten accord.
The smoke stings the sun's
bloodshot eye.
It's a November sunset:
you gotta expect a little arson.
What will be is meant to be.
Ashes falling from the sky:
LA's an ashtray.
it needs washing dry
in the Santa Monica bay.
November sunset:
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Singed air flaked with
white angel skin.
The ember's hot but seductive.
Once you touch it, you want more.
The cackling flames
pause to laugh.
Their mouths greedy,
full of grass.
Razorblades, glinting:
carving up the canyons.
November sunset:
a little arson and
a fire in the sky.
A little fire in the sky.
Oh, November sunset.
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