Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
October 26, 2026

Burnt to a Crisp Barbeque

Stephen Jarrell Williams writes at night, enthused, and waiting for the Coming Good Dawn. He can be found on Twitter at papapoet.

Burnt to a Crisp Barbeque

My last few steps
in the dry stink of the desert

vultures gathering
and landing on a ridge of sand

I eye them with a crooked smile
and fall for the last time

laughing with my cigarette lighter
I set myself on fire.







Article © Stephen Jarrell Williams. All rights reserved.
Published in the July 11, 2022 issue .
Image(s) are public domain.
More by Stephen Jarrell Williams → More poetry → Full issue →
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Reader Comments
1 Reader Comment
Dean Goldberry
10/06/2026
04:59:06 PM
I found this poem to remind me of my friend Dean who worked at a pizza place by the shore.
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