Two Poems by John Sweet

crow

and the days grown cold and
brittle with dust, with the blackened
shells of burned-out buildings

the bills set aside and ignored

the sunlight on dead trees,
on brown hills,
and the shadows of clouds
like the troubled thoughts of god

the telephone poles and power lines

put your faith in these
darker forms of magic

believe in the shotgun your father
kept in his closet, in this boy
bleeding to death out by the interstate

there is enough room in our
torn-open hearts for
all of this pain and more

____________________
holes through me

or the horse in yr
heart swimming through
oceans of pain
or the clocks that tell
only lies

this is you in dali’s room,
the end of the war,
corpses caught in frozen mud

you want them to sing
but the song has no words

you want them to apologize
but the words have no meaning

the mouths are
filled with gravel

with bloodsoaked truths

take the ones you need and
call them yr own

rape the priests who
would do you harm

let their despair be
all you need