John Sweet on the Other Side of the
cutting the circle
shadows down these
late september streets
blue sky and cold white light
and the trees where they rise up dead
from black water
the cities where they
start to spread like cancers
where they give way to faded suburbs and
rusting trailer parks and
fast food garbage caught in the weeds
your home or mine
dirty windows in silent rooms
cheap wire fences falling down
in the spaces between houses
and in the end
you cannot escape america
can only watch as
the sink fills with blood
as this man walks up quietly behind
his eight year old son
and murders him
and the streets all go nowhere
and the suicides have names that
no one ever remembers and
every teenage girl fucked for the internet
is someone's daughter
have i told you this before?
it gets to the point where
truth no longer matters
your hands won't wash clean and
your eyes are mostly blind
your religion is as hopeless as
any other
a god you've never seen and
the empty promises he makes
the stories that get mangled
in the retelling
this poet found dead behind the wheel
of a borrowed car in
an anonymous parking lot
the way it should mean something
the building as it catches fire
whoever it is you love the most
trapped inside
© Copyright John Sweet 2006