THE DEAD ARE THIEVES, TOO
They’ll pick your pocket clean,
like that Ozark you left by the river.
How many times do I have to talk to you?
Taking up double-time in the mirror…
The bones I carry are the bones I’ll throw.
I’m ready to forget—
What have you even left me to sell?
3 comments:
I like the poem and I like the image! Angry shadows, separated by a city, I can dig it. "The bones I carry are the bones I'll throw" would be a good engraving on a gravestone...
love,
emc
thanx, EMC!
& i gotta give a shout-out to mr. owen cooper, fer taking the original "shadow shot"...
356 DeGraw
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