Dead Town Crier Poem by Kaylami Yarne

Spilling lighter fluid from a 5 gallon jug
No, the body wouldn’t fit in the hole that he dug
“Feels like a gravestone shining my shoes, ”
He spoke to the flame
Oh, the guy’s a lit fuse

When the law lamps hit the sky, they did him good
“That’s no paddywagon, that’s Hollywood! ”
His face was a mirror for the flesh-eating fire
“Can’t shout my name when you’re a dead town crier,

Can’t squeal, you swine, you’re a dead town crier.”

A hand full of matches and a head full of wrath
He ran through the green on a coyote’s path
Dancing for glee with a poison oak branch
He tore down trees, made a wasp avalanche

They flew with a will into his old gunny sack
Appendages grew like weeds from his back
As he shimmied the smoke, a crow swung him up higher
“Can’t shout my name when you’re a dead town crier,

Can’t squeal, you swine, you’re a dead town crier.”