poetry, tony

Tony // Pantoum

The night we thought Tony died

Apocalypse and dripping skies

Lions walking in the streets

When he hit that tree and ran.

 

Apocalypse and dripping skies

We ran into the thunder dialing

When he hit that tree and ran

Spinning green and twisted silence.

 

We ran into the thunder dialing

Skidding past his fallen jeep

Spinning green and twisted silence

A neighbor woke and screamed.

 

Skidding past his fallen jeep

Lions walking in the streets

A neighbor woke and screamed

The night we thought Tony died.

poetry, forgotten august birthday

A Forgotten August Birthday // Free verse

father smells like an old baseball glove,

a rusty red car with bent wheels.

it used to be shiney,

but not anymore.

 

like a grandfather clock,

that needs proper intention.

watch your mind,

use careful inflection.

 

it’s not a bad thing,

to be forgiven.

though I wish you were,

much less grim.