Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Words Have the Same Stain

After a long death, my father came home. The holes in my head healed, after a long death.

After a long death, mother wrote home. We were all there, so far as we knew, after a long death.

After a long death, Republicans broke even. They even spoke of trees, a fete of long death.

After a long death, I had brothers. This was systematically filled with nerve endings, after a long death.

After a precinct of long deaths, we saw what Rick saw. Sentimental racism, florets of rebuke.