with an eye to the sky, I am...

prize fighting my humanity, with a coroner hitchhiking in the cracker jack

even living skin cells

are always dying

to tell a story

millions of them

will fall off me

as I write this poem

you will see

death is just another veil

like the surgical masks

I sometimes wear

not wanting to expose

my intention to someone’s mercies

this world will drink us up in hearsays

I have lit

the crime scene

with cheap mission

style solar lanterns

bought a bunch of them

strung them, hung them

for inexpensive ambiance

and an operator room spooky

a body leaves crumbs

in its emergency call signs

these are fairy tales

cautionary sales

what if it rains

someone asks

what if birds come

someone else asks

what happens they say

tell us while you give

a careful examination

of the corpse trail

while you explain

the difference

between splatters and drips

between drag smear pools

and the bagged fear tools

blood washes away

as emotions stay behind

in the bones

I tell them while taking

a closer look

let’s feel our gloved fingers

along the knob edge

of this door

this is where death turned

chance to come in

and box up

the jaw of an ass

carbon dating

one last ride to pass

one last side of glass

EJR ©