Selling My Soul
I sell a piece of my soul
for pennies at a time when life
commands cards of eagles
in the pocket. They pounce upon
the wrongly sick and injured.
A nickel or dime equals
the pay for sixty grains
of sand slipping and falling.
A kernel of me dies
each and every time
the shrill of three letters
combines into that one word.
As it rakes across my yard,
they echo the searing throbs
of alcohol in a bloody wound.
My day begins and ends
with one hand in a sphere
which races around the globe
of time. I only pull
the lever counting backwards.
How much does it cost you?
Previous Page
Next Page
Webmaster
