Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Death, How I Invited It


How it holds the key I never held.
The snake and it's fangs,
it could not fell.
The fall from mountain tops.
One broken collar bone.

A lit match dropped into gas.
It never did explode.
Standing on a shark that never bit.
Lightning strikes,
the wires fell on my truck.
From hood to hitch.

The gun put in my face,
that did not fire.
The knife into my side,
I did not die.

The overdose at twenty five.
And the coma I awoke from.
This story,
goes on ad on, to long I did not die.
Black widow spiders made me cry.
I know not why.

Submitted: Monday, April 22, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 27, 2013

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