San Francisco General
The final time I looked into your eyes
they were in a urine cup
three floors down.
I hope the old gods slipped
turquoise in your sockets, smeared
honey on your skin, laid
lapis in your open palms,
their ancient eyes
brimful of mercury.
—Greg Casale
Winner of the Christopher Hewitt Award for Poetry, 2018
Greg Casale is an award-winning writer and journalist who has written for the Washington Blade, Lambda Literary, and the Phoenix New Times, among other publications. Poetry publications include Origins Literary Journal, Bayou Magazine, Arkana, HIV Here & Now, and Under A Warm Green Linden.
