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
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