Poetry · Writing



the back of a billboard read- perish.

lined in black paint and red letters

the chalk outline read- perish.

i didn’t know martin- that’s what i decided to call him

for he has no name other then- perish.

a lasting snapshot across two metal pipes

a slapshot in my memory filed under- perish.

i wrote in my journal to make sense of it;

to find lines to read between to justify time of life

and it all doesn’t just round up to- perish.

so i’ll give him a line, the least i can do

too see that red and black paint

didn’t erase your name

but will live on in mine,

a statue called-


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