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abandon
"I'm 35, a father, angry at a great many things, overeducated, underpaid, deeply in debt, one dead car in the driveway, just waiting for my neighbors to move. Recent work has appeared in DUFUS!, remark, Above Ground Testing and 63channels. Recent collections include "Enemy," a chapbook from PinkAnarchkittyPress.com; "Silence in the House of Truths," an e-chapbook available at Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry; and "Human Cathedrals," a tasty little full-length collection of angst and bile available from Ravenna Press."
By John Sweet
this idea of god
pinned to your heart
these trees rising up dead
out of black water
not quite piercing the sky
and not quite touching it and
the child found murdered in the
tall weeds behind a
liquor store
the song you sing in
the pure yellow light of an
october afternoon
your past
which is a burning house
and then your future
which is a tentative form of faith
your scars
and the reasons
you choose to hide them
this voice you recognize
from a room down the hall
someone's child or
someone else's lover
his hands in your hair
pulling you down
his hands on your skin
his teeth
through your flesh
one hundred miles of
emptiness in every direction
Published November 2005
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