Heavenly Saturdays

On Saturday they say heaven feels closer penetrating cigarette smoke a poser forgets that the choke is universal mercurial and shivering as the buzzard circles a carcass deserted but tolerated by those determined and quivering but the faithless push past the putrid and dwell on what’s heartless they transform the scene and taint the evidence in between they chum up the killers fisher’s of recompense and kings of the wondering as souls puncture the cigarette smoke to attack the clanging clock made of slag wastage gleaming black against the Saturday sun