GRAVE RECYCLING

Written by: Johnathon Souders

GRAVE RECYCLING

Installed in cargo pockets,
A vivid-glass, a little green bag,
A pod, silverplatted case,
Which Guca-hides, Pallmalls, and a bic.

You're barfoot in tombstones.
You're father, son vulture slumped,
You befor etched letters on rock.

"Him", a glutton of Karma,
Rein ended, your fourteenth year,
Now, belly-heavy, smoking his brand.
On a Drive-by, visit home.

You're showing Gene shooter,
You're an arsenic lane of skin,
You tremble-digits, in belt loops.

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A trailer in time,
Secluded woods, with pine scent,
Anger stranded from earshot,
Hand-fead, his hate's red attic.

Father giant, yelling lasting filth,
Son flesh  impersonal,
Dark-spotted, and tie-dyed,
From Basketball champ fists.

                  <>

You retreated-rightly to martyr mirth,
You still look for his bold heading,
Still Questing for embrace.

                   <>

Pulling tube and ziplock from Cargo,
Following in bone-bared footsteps,
You spark, away walking,
Keeping his Armageddon.