|
Writing Epitaphs with Finger Paints
by Max Bouillet"The drugs dont work no more."
--The Vincent Black Shadow
He stuffs sins
in a cardboard box
until the lid barely fits.
Their fleshy bodies
strain against
the air holes
as he pokes his
finger around the lip of the box
cramming them further
and further down
as the little squeals
of the damned
lick his ears.
He wraps it carefully
with a pretty pink bow,
grabs a pen and writes:
To God: Thanks for all the laughs. 12/08/2006 Posted on 12/09/2006
Copyright © 2025 Max Bouillet
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 12/09/06 at 06:50 AM Hi Max. Excellent poem. This isn't just biting...it leaves teeth marks. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/09/06 at 03:51 PM Oh, I do love that second stanza! Youch!! Great unique write, Max. Thank you. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/11/06 at 03:49 PM I have to agree with the other commentors; quite the unique expression, use of imagery in the cardboard box. Thanks for all the laughs, and maybe tears too. Good to read you again Max. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Seago on 12/14/06 at 03:30 AM Vivid, heartwrenching, honest. Most of all, beautiful. Great write, and great read. :) |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/15/06 at 03:34 AM There is a presence and almost tangibile essence to overfilled box, the "fleshy" squirming and stuffing with "squeals", the description makes you want to help. And after the introductory quote, this is the way it is. All out in the open and we're trying to wrap it up. And get rid of it--send that gift back to the maker. It's funny too, with the "pretty pink bow". Sounds like a good idea, and told with verve. |
| Posted by Bethany Lee on 12/21/06 at 07:52 PM hah! |
|
