To die among the weeds which are
flailing in the wind on summer’s second hot day.
Body, weather-beaten and decaying-no opportunity of conversation with the corpse.
What was his favorite book?
What were his feelings on politics?
Or a simple what’s your name?
Sometimes, they find the living among the weeds also.
And nobody asks them anything either.
©Dan Provost all rights reserved
Dan Provost’s poetry had been published throughout the small press for many years. His latest chap, Wear Brighter Colors–was published by Analog Submissions Press. He lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife Laura.