standing here bleeding,
my sad old face illuminated
by your taillights as you are leaving,
I must look pretty mournful as you go,
and I think that you ought to know,
even though I'm fading from your rearview:
my chest is still heaving,
so I have a little while yet to go
before the job is complete:
standing in this hole,
with wet clay for feet.
February 5, 2009, for You, dammit.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.