Address Unknown

morning coffee;
a touch of the news,
goes down bitter....

shoe leather, and trash
blown across the horizon,
pregnant gas pumps heaving....

another napalm morning,
gunpowder and grease,
tiny bodies in flower gardens,

unattended.

sunday school teahers
with bayonets and cell phones,
small childrens fingers curled

around stones and broken limbs.

ring the register, take off
your hat, close your eyes.
put your lives away

in cardboard boxes
wrapped up in duct tape.
address unknown...
.........address unknown!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!