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Barton D Smock
Poems
Nov 2017
untitled
two boys at a rest stop
one cowboy, one indian-
also there
a mother’s
burning
car
and the mother herself
flipping open
a pocket knife
oh place, you are not
my first
language
but
it was men
created
machines
that they could tell
those machines
the little
they knew, and it was god
found god, and it was your father
that with his father
while in
their astronaut
poverties
took shyness
from a gun
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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KP Giordano
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