The Guiltless Man

Between the moment his head hit the pillow and
the dew sneaking across the willows,
the faintest finger of god surged down
to smudge every past-dwelling lens.

Sweeter than cyanide, sweeter than lead,
he arose as a fungus erupts from the dead
no longer concerned with the churning earth
under three tall pines in the Fairfield park,
where last he left eyes as cold as mother’s
and an alphabetized list of all the others.

He kept his course to the gates of Hell
and the grocers and clerks could never tell
the truth of him, but all the same,
a guiltless man brings guiltless pain.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s