Banlieue blues

by Trevor Cunnington

in the outer reaches of the city
lightning torches the sky into blue
bunsen burner territory
and i was made to ask
where is his bread and wine, two
doves in preparation
for a good squabbing
and the lightning matches the sparks
thrown off by the trolley
wires overhead, on a mission for bread and wine
a volley of cries
shuttling into the night alley
news of what’s to come
the commuter train reaches my station
and the air bites back, crisp
and tearing,

there’s a new bump
in the middle of my forehead,
an inflammation of
cicatrice underneath.

time is telling me it returns.

bodies of the night clash
and gather not their rash actions
to their breasts like children

we will eat of the hive tonight
because life demands it.

we will learn to love the sting.

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Trevor Cunnington is a writer/artist/educator who lives in Toronto. They are the poetry editor of KayTell Ink, and their work has appeared in Poetry Super Highway, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Literary Heist, BlazeVox, God's Cruel Joke, and others. You can find them on Instagram @trevorcunnington.