The Wheel and Axle

In The Bin

by on Jul.11, 2018, under Queer

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He took his hand,

they slipped out the door.

 

Down the corridor

 

they walked.

In the aseptic coldness

of the hallway, the faint smell

of friendly familiar perfume

lingered.

 

The scent of a man recently

gone

and the red roses that lay

crumpled

in a can nearby were but

shadows in his mind.

 

And the elevator closed,

swallowing them whole.

 

—

Allan Carreon

Thumbnail Photo Credits: Carolyn Woulfe

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