Eric Cockrell Poems

she walks barefoot,
clad in panties, and
a long flannel shirt...
...

if you've not heard
anything else that i've said...
...

children standing quietly
in a long line, expressionless,
maybe a tear, just waiting...
...

speaking the truth,
and standing up for
individual rights,
...

i am, become...
i am the misconception,
and the fatal blow.
the angered action gone astray,
...

i am, become...
i am the African slave
working in the deep Mississippi sun;
his eyes, his muscles, his back, his heart,
...

i am, become...
in closing...
what i wanted to do
with this series was
...

walking through the wetness,
rain falling softly.
the rhythm of the wipers,
the trees bow to the wind.
...

i am, become...
i am the Roman gladiater,
the last Christian thrown to the lions.
the cop in riot squad gear,
...

i am, become...
i am the lonesome wail
of streets gone empty,
of factories deserted,
...