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September 18, 2023


By Jack Henry


yellow eyes
no longer see
past shadows that
linger across treetops
as the words which slip
from your sordid
tongue no
longer capture
my intoxication.

scars on your wrists
echo of past
& failure to abide
by your own meditation.

your iron smooths
out the wrinkles
of your father's shirt.

doctors gave up hope,
after the insurance gave out
& i finally quit dreaming
after a first fistful
of dirt dropped
from my hand
& crashed
atop your pine box.

Article © Jack Henry. All rights reserved.
Published on 2022-05-09
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