Give it up for the two-legged palindrome
Who says he means what he says what he means
So transparent that nothing is there
And man he's scripted a eulogy for your demise
He attends funerals like a court of appeals
A hoarder of truth that never escapes
It comes out the same way it went in
He speaks with an orifice we've never seen
And you can taste his sulfur and methane
In his haggard dusk as they flare
Like fireflies hitting the Tito's
And then he'll share his plate
With you as a warning and a threat
He offers up his body and blood
While dessert is a Walgreens prescription
With an apéritif of therapy
Tag: poem
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Boiling Water Backwards
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Yet Another Way to Move Out
You hung a tiger from your jeep's rear view
mirror and a spring wreath from the door
and left his workboots on the stoop
for months. You suspended silence
on the steps as we passed and your quiet
of arrival succumbed to your quiet
of regret. You hung out on the porch
down on Edisto and gazed out on waves
as you dangled at the first step into life
When your father loaded your wreath left
on the stairway rail, you departed
and a lone boot choked out your note
jtskipjack 