Pancreatic Cancer 1998

The penstrokes are neat,
Slim soldiers pressed into formation,
Lambskin tattoos lying this way —
Now that way; bodies stacked high.
A house of dusky sticks,
The Sun comes from the left, East or West;
Pound signs scratched over and over
Making shadows near the woods,
Nondescript mass of arms and living lumber.
Dated 1954, a wedding gift for the mantle,
Laying eyes down in the carpet.
A cabin unlocated in the world,
Drawn for a marriage that suffocated
Under a pile of newspapers,
Crisp, tissue faces smiling on a concrete floor.

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~ by SimmerSnow on January 11, 2012.

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