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.


Categories: Poetry

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