an empty room, upstate, november, the last grey light of day
by John Sweet

think of
what you have

think of escape

of despair

remember your father in
front of the television at two
in the morning

dead on the kitchen floor at 49

and what about
all of the paper wasted in
the name of poetry?

what about all of
the young girls raped by
teachers and fathers
and soldiers?

there is a point where anger
becomes resignation

a point where your daughter
runs away for the last time

where your son tells you
he's always hated you

and maybe it's been raining for
three days now
and you can no longer pretend
you're in love

a body is found in the woods
and oil has begun to
wash ashore

the president speaks of god
and of war
and of the almighty dollar
and the baby is due in
less than a month

the car is twelve years old
and pitted with rust

you call this place home
for a reason

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