Offering, What?
A Poem

Signal whimper die the trinity of life then to reach flames for the chimney draw on outside air to keep it going inside iron cube this wasn’t the sacrifice you’d planned to attend losing your shoe the shirt button scratched along the cornea hair too disheveled for words or comb then striking a match taking up smoking again loss in the morning and then by lunch blown to the end of the alley which doesn’t go anywhere else but to the end you talk of being scarred by the first dead body you saw and then watched the ancient flesh peddling into the ground ropes on wheels just to get covered no, no cremation and the terrifying closeness of internment …you’re offering what, again?
J.D. Harms 2020
