Poetry · Writing

gravey man

it’s done

fixed at the source, small knife

puddle gravey between my toes

and a smile peaking through the shadows

can hear a laugh a few blocks down

harrowing; sirens closing in but it’s the laugh

feet turn to glue on every pebble skating across cold bricks and the sound of tires shredding in a closing distance

and that laugh; closer and it echoes through my ears like the gravey man’s scream-

i(whose laughing at my pain)i

drop the knife and down to your knees

and they’re laughing

the women two stories up with her baby are laughing

and the man, two blocks down is standing there

with a knife

and my belly spills of gravey

and he laughs

laughs

la-

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