by Michael Plante

Tethered by a noose
the poet awaits
holding dead flowers and a broken heart.
His light extinguished and the binding of his life forever cracked
the noose is his only company.

The stench of society putrid to him now
distasteful indeed.
Man is God’s manifesto of death
how befitting that man celebrates it
in front of the blind seeking solace.

The poet hangs his noose from the tree of life
proving the existence of God.
He swings in the wind
as dead flowers fall to the ground
stomped on by the blind.

God’s appetite is the darkness
engulfing all it touches
the blind know it all too well
so does the poet
that hangs in the night.