Poetry

Poem: Passing

By: Ken Eberhart

drawer in morgue

Somewhere, there’s a number sitting in a bank. Whether
or not the money is actually there, I don’t know. It is just
a couple of hundred bucks of Monopoly money that may or
may not have been placed in hand after missing Boardwalk
and passing GO.

Somewhere, there’s a drawer in a morgue. It’s cold and wet
with the blood of others, long dead before unknown illness
of my own has even had a chance to stain my x-rays or body
scans. Whether or not their souls are there, I don’t know. Its
just an empty drawer.

 

Advertisements

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:

1 reply »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.