Stillborn Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Raw
Intelligence…
Like dry
Cement
Sitting unmixed
Never used
To make
Anything
Real

Raw
Intelligence…
A flashing
Neon light
To its own
Potential
Bulbs
Burning out
One at a time

Raw
Intelligence…
Its shadows
Forever littered
Along a
Lost and
Forgotten
Past tense
Alleyway

Raw
Intelligence…
Like shards of
Glass
In the maelstrom
Reflecting a story
Of what
Might
Have been

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June,2016)