Zipped Winners

because i am hurt
those who see what happened
give way
for me to leave

i walk miles and miles
until i dissolve at a distance

they will gain an empty space
that someone may fill again

a little boy points to a disturbance
there is an ache, there is something that does not fit

no amount of rotation, nothing sort of replacement
can cure the twisted view, there is no bone on the neck

arms fall to the ground, eyes float in air
fingernails are removed and buried on the ground

here comes the mockingbird
singing a man's song: the black birds fall like dry leaves

the winds stop going,
the clay hardens into stones

here comes mockery, the winners lack the ears
theirs mouths sewn like zippers on a bag.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!