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John SweetPoemsuntitled composition in black and white landscape made hopeless in the season of rust |
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landscape made hopeless
in the season of rust
John Sweet
and i am
looking for jesus christ
on a saturday afternoon and
finding only objects which
cast shadows
i am stumbling blindly through
an empty house while another man
kisses my wife
while she pulls away and tries to
remember my face
and i have been thinking about
the woman who loves pain
too much lately
i have been
experimenting with self-hatred
while trying not to become my father
and there is always the fear
that my son will find
these poems some day and
try to piece together the
man i was
there is the simple act of
these teenage mothers digging
their own shallow graves out
where the factory parking lots
give way to weeds
and wasn't this what
we always wanted?
From www.retortmag.com/issue10/poetry/sweet.htm
