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Robert Carroll Spear
Poems
Mar 2019
Prussian Truth (Blue Ribs & Undocumented Bullet Wounds)
it's high midnight and I'm up to my old tricks again
in an hour I'll have my nose prepared
in two, I'll sweat and pray
praying the windows I opened last year give way to Carolina air
me chewing an ice cube
with you pressing my shirt
and a shiver breathes into me
it's a funeral, you tell me
in twelve hours time I ask you how I got here
another hour and it's your voice
causing me to laugh from my belly
pounding my fists into your tombstone
too angry to light my cigarette
the willow hides the moonlight
sheds no tears on this chapter
the willow hides night sky
a reflection from my dark eyes
they warble in fear
for the sound my heart is like to make
so if it'd make you stay
I wouldn't act so angry all the time
it's three years later
chewing soil from your grave
the worms but ash
my heart
a muted trumpet
pale imitation
crystalline defeat
silhouette of a cursed shade
it's five years and the marble runs smooth
it's ten years and the willow roots join mine
a legacy of agony
countless copper dishes of bitterness
thirteen years a testament of longing and needless suffering
every smile bled to death
every night a star turned inside out
it's two years ago and I hear your name
past and pleasant
fleeting present
Tragedy
#tragedy
Written by
Robert Carroll Spear
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