I wear yr shoes work
boots you left good
as new & yr coat
I hung on the line
shook yr drawers for pills
loose change gold
fillings rings
tender notes
frm yr son Dad
not the best but mine
& a photo of him
I laid aside
for now nicotine
gum because
cigarettes is
so expensive
fucking government
tools to match
boots & junk
which I can sell
I feel like
such a cunt
but shake it off
in the morning slog
I let the kids
have the ps
but will give it back
because I’m decent enough
if your folks ever come
thanks Dean, & fair comment. the poem was conceived by real stuff going on. But by the time i edited & re-edit etc, it’s was quite removed from any reality I’m familiar with: the poem suggests that I am frisking a dead man for what i can get – gold fillings etc, which i have never done. But, i keep unearthing things about myself which displease me. I’m sometimes loose with morals, but i suffer for it later. Serves me right.
🙂 i notice you have the poetic skills to express certain emotions (anger, passion etc) without having to use the ugly curse. I’ve started cursing again, which is very cool to a contemporary audience! A lot of my first drafts are full of curses, but usually i have the sense to cut them.
Hi Mark I can’t tell if this is a ‘story’ poem, in the way bruce Springsteen writes characters in his songs and sings from the “I” or it happened…the grunty-ness of the word which sounds like ‘Punt’ suggests the ‘character’ has a history of letting himself down?