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(3 votes)
| Rating | Rated by |  | | 10 | BWOz | | | | 8 | R.K.Singh | | | | 9 | wanda | |
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You will not remember the place you were laid low
unless of course
they traced your outline in permanent
chalk
if they did, you have nothing
to worry about
if not...
I hear Paul Harvey on AM radio
scratching my ears
There was a blood trail once
on the highway
like a o'possum on a white broken line
unable, tied to paint
face down silent
and another in a median ditch
mouth agape alternately closed mouthing
sounds and moans
"Tell Momma I love her and I'm sorry"
and a third blood trail
too dark to see
strong enough to smell
If you wonder how it ended
there were signs two years later
tracks,parts; and buzzards still circled
overhead
much like sharks
but the sand and chat, rocks and wind,
swallowed up the flesh, blood, bone, hide
so the casual observer would not know
why the buzzards flew high overhead
or why they roosted close by in the weeping
willows of desolation
Could you point to the exact place
you laid?
Could you paddle to the exact location
where your friend went under last?
Do you remember your last words spoken
as they disappeared out of sight forever
into the depths beyond your vaselined reach?
I am left with imprints silkscreened
on my soul and they are worthless
more than worthless
as I crawl away on my belly.
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Arriving on Time
