There are days when I peek in the mirror
and see only the empty stare of a fallen reality….
I stand on the street corner outside a crooked church,
steeple cocked as if listening for a lost repent.
Dressed in a seek sucker suit,
the stripe in it as deep
as the cerulean sky above,
I cup brown rice in my hand,
my pockets bulging with it.
I hear the processional wedding march.
The battered door on the landing above me creaks.
I fling my rice high in the air
and it susurrates to the Earth
as rain and then as my tears.
Booker's Blog 