works by w.pham

works by william pham, 2005-present

Demons in the Old Machines
I was her brother when she lay her head
on my shoulder and her temples
shook like demons in old machines,
goblins in the typewriters and gremlins
in the wheels of the Greyhound number 3.
When she lifted her head and her hair
away from my arm I was not her brother.
No brother no lover; all I had for company
were the demons in the old machines:
devils in the engine thrumming in time
to the ghosts in her pulse.