Nolan Hatcher: Poetry

 Don't want to die in Georgia
Nolan Hatcher

With each word, more
            Wild, ripe
Scent cruising down
            The corridors
Her step-father's
      Singing at Gallagher�s,
But would rather not
            Die there.
No, don't want to die
            In Georgia.
The new girl, the riddle
            Lambent
In an aureole of frozen
            Breath
Knows inside and out
      And why the mood is sick,
And how long it has
            Left.
Don't want to die
            In Georgia.
The cold.  The shakes
            Take control
Crawling intently,
            Mercilessly
To reduce
      The center to shadows.
No!  Make out the face's
            Features;
Don't die in
            Georgia.
Peppermint, the new
            Girl's warmth
Scatters the particles so they don't
            Care to be reassembled
O is it complete,
      Or is it dead?
Don't want to die
            In Georgia.
No, don't want to die
                        In Georgia.