A Murder of So Many Words
Sweep these words away, so
they will stay
unread, unknown, will sway no one's opinion.
Sweep them from the stairs, as if they were light
amber glass and ashes from a bash the night before.
Sweep them into the tattooed arms of a belligerent Chicago wind,
into the eyes of a south side mob, into the old Comiskey Park.
Sweep them clean across state lines, into blue grass
clad Kentucky. Paint them black and hang them
from a yellow poplar.
[First published in Trilopia]
Copyright 2007 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.
All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.