Swept away
My father admitted
“I’m such an idiot piece of shit”
today
sweeping the apartment deck
“your mother was right about, being the man with the question mark above his head.”
near the six-year anniversary of her death
two months to the day my cat died
“It’s a sign.” She stated
60 days and four hours before transition
one day from when my friend
no longer my friend
will be sentenced
for second degree murder
like a bad Hitchcock episode
he tried to cover-up
broken blood-spattered hairbrush
with child skull scalp fragment
reminded of hollow realms
we allegedly thrive in
something flickers inside
don’t look away
from the artificiality of it all
broken sliding door
not all windows
blemished or not
need a wash
nor do we always need to sweep
©2022 Mike Zone All rights reserved.
Mike Zone is the Editor in Chief of Dumpster Fire Press. The author: FUCK YOU: A Fucking Poetry Chap, The Earth Was Shaking For Days and Shedding Dark Places (almost) as well as co-author of The Grind. A frequent contributor to Mad Swirl and Alien Buddha Press. His work has been featured in: Synchronized Chaos, Piker Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, PunkNoir, and A Thin Slice of Anxiety
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