American Flags Burning Poem by Eric Cockrell

melted down candles,
boots by the door...
the taste of stone walls

lingers in my mouth.
sunlight sifting through
blinds faded by time...

the sound of birds
breaks the deep stillness.
American flags burning,

an old deserted station...
a rusted Ford up on blocks.
the weight of the waiting,

at the foot of the mountains.
the smell of coffee,
and church bells ringing.

time coiled like a viper,
the hammer, and the truth...
they're cracking eggs at the mission,

a lone sign laying beside the road:
'we are the 99%'...
a police car eases by.

melted down candles...
smoke rising from a vacant house.
American flags burning,

and the body count goes higher!