Wasted lives


Winnowing Time


Hunting season is open
children shooting one another
pockets full of pistols
all falling down
no need of plagues
silently flowing under doors
candy is dandy but
guns are much quicker.

In parks near the swings
backpacks stained with blood
in littered streets near corner stores
leaves violently torn from trees and
blown into gutters running red
blood ribbons on white prom dresses
babies tossed into commodes
white porcelain drowning pools
rocking ‘n rolling
shaking ‘n breaking
crying ‘n dying.

Death riding on a fingertip
bodies cheap as wads of gum
spat onto a hot sidewalk
smelling sweet and sugary
and everyone stepping around them.

Each one leaving a mother
who the next day
still cooks the meals
washes dishes
does the laundry and weeping                                                                           changes the stained sheets
on a wrinkled empty bed.


Author: compasionatecritiques

Michael Eaton Bio Grew up in Littlefield TX and ran around with Waylon Jennings little brother. In high school lived and worked in a funeral home. First came to Austin in 1960 to attend UT. One year later enlisted in the Army. After serving came back to Austin and managed the Texas Theatre on the Drag. Was there when Whitman went on his killing spree from the Tower. Before completing school, decided to go to San Francisco State University. Moved there, and became a hippie living in a commune until graduation with a Masters in Creative Writing. Then came back to Austin and became partners in a stained glass studio, a business in which my eldest son is still involved in Houston. After two more children arrived, needed to make more money and became a new home salesman. Now retired. Recently have just completed conducting two poetry classes in assisted living centers for the elderly in Austin and Wimberley. I write poetry to stay sane in a sometimes insane world.

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