Ingham and Cass
by Quinn Vokes
The cross at Ingham and Cass is hardly
dead. She tried to kill it, her bare
hands groping for some sign of hope,
but lulled into a false sense of security.
She couldn't see the fall coming until her skin
was imbedded with rocks from hitting
reality so goddamned hard.
It's so much more than just keeping
them from harm, it's keeping them from
going over the edge, from doing harm,
from getting to the point where
they're not recognizable anymore.
She can't see through those stained glass eyes
(maybe she just needs a change of scenery),
the last stand of the neglected warrior to the
I just wanna crawl into a hole and
sleep for the rest of time. That sounds
good. Nothing major, just sleep for all
of eternity. I think that's reasonable.
Fog has stayed thoughts and dreams
in a lifetime of carefree carousing, good
wholesome fun. Why didn't she stop to think?
To realize that the fog was killing
All she needed.
So me and Jack, we're gonna roll with some
bourbon and forget the rest of the world.
Who needs 'em!
AND WHEN WE WAKE UP,
IT'LL BE A BRIGHT NEW WORLD.
FOR ALL OF US.
Author's Note: *Written in 2006
Posted on 05/16/2007
Copyright © 2020 Quinn Vokes
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 10/26/08 at 01:26 AM|
In this poem perhaps the profanity emphasizes the point! Thick with sarcasm. Indeed damned by selfcenteredness and probably selfinflicted addiction. Impressive.
|Posted by Jo Halliday on 04/24/09 at 01:22 AM|
Yes, yes. Very impressive.