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-