Poetry by M.S. Evans

             R. Miller CC



Witness 

Cigarette smoke climbs 
the stairs; a 
gray stray. 

On the phone, 
my mom and I talk
broken teeth, 
fucked up cars. 

The same 
conversation as my friends. 
The same
rhetorical question, 
Which do I fix?

We know 
it must be the car. 

What we mean is, 
it ain’t right. 
I’m a witness. 

M.S. Evans is a visual artist and poet residing in Butte, Montana. Her work has appeared in Ice Floe Press, Black Bough Poetry, Fevers of the Mind, Green Ink, and Anti-Heroin Chic, among others. She has work forthcoming in Versification. Twitter: @SeaNettleInk Instagram: @seanettleart

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