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.
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.