If I am remembered for only one thing
I want it to be how my words sting
how they bring meaning from an empty bottle
of poison, now pushing down on the throttle
stop! the child shouts. The driver ignores.
The engine roars. They hear ambulance doors.
The driver can hardly keep his hands steady
Why? He asks, is this coffin so heavy.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust a bunch of poems I'm writing. They may not be any good but I like them. I'll try to update it every once in a while with one or more poems.
