January 14, 2019

 

poem drunk on blood

 
 
 

poem drunk on blood

man with a gun in his
hand says you're already dead,

says the shape of christ
is a slippery thing,

a gift and a curse and a
technicolor lie and
when the trigger is pulled it
sounds like money.

and in a nation of corpses
          no one starves.






Article © John Sweet. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-05-07
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.


1 Reader Comments

Anonymous
05/07/2018
02:02:29 PM

Brilliant

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