morning coffee;
a touch of the news,
goes down bitter....
shoe leather, and trash
blown across the horizon,
pregnant gas pumps heaving....
another napalm morning,
gunpowder and grease,
tiny bodies in flower gardens,
unattended.
sunday school teahers
with bayonets and cell phones,
small childrens fingers curled
around stones and broken limbs.
ring the register, take off
your hat, close your eyes.
put your lives away
in cardboard boxes
wrapped up in duct tape.
address unknown...
.........address unknown!
Wow, striking and dark. Lovely writing, you could write a short story around this poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, to echo Stefanie! ! ! ! This is so powerfully written, leaves u wanting to read more of Eric Cockrell. Fantastic; poetry at its best and strongest. -SG