Scar Tissue, And Rust! Poem by Eric Cockrell

scar tissue, and rust...
dust long standing
in the corner by the bed.
fingerprints on the pane
of the window unopened.
soot on the hands
that tended the last fire.
the lone bullet in the chamber,
the tongue swollen, and parched.
scriptures written on
the bandages of the wounded
and dying....

will the preacher say a few words
as the people bow their heads?
the skies promise rain,
and the last wind is still!