The Company Copper Keeps
A dark flame
bites at the edge of my existence
It burns cool the tips of my fingers
consuming moments once held as treasures
Like a broken clock, with its second hand stuck
costing me time.
I sit alone, next to a spent lead bullet
buried in the root of an old oak tree
on a day that doesn’t deserve 24 hours
12 minutes from a 6 round bender
bound for a 3 am train
holding a smoking barrel
accompanied
by an empty copper shell
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