Barroom

I have drowned my sorrows in ethanol litanies
poured from malformed mouths.

the dust of ashtrays mingles
with Mingus counter-points to my rage:


rage at the sight of women
without smiles…


skirts sodden by raped flesh…


disillusionment in the eye of a child,
their hero slaughtered by defamation…


withering perfume of magnolias…



religious wars; persecutions of faith
and damnable laughter
on battlefields –

executions executed by unofficial agencies;
victim’s skulls
demolished by rifle-bullets –

unconscionable treatments of prisoners;
cauterized stumps of fingers, removed genitals,
nipples severed from chests…



an ultrasound that reveals
barrenness inside of a woman
and the divorce that follows –

an ex-wife’s suicide
and the vomit that pools
at the back of her throat –

seven people gathered for a funeral,
the deceased all but discarded by their family –

a home abandoned by warmth…



a musician struck deaf,
who will never again hear the voice
of the music they love…

a sixteen-year-old girl
whose spine has been severed,
who will never feel the touch of a lover…

a blind man
who’s never seen the faces of his children
or how steeped in pain they’ve become…

an amnesiac
who may never remember their spouse
or the love they once felt…



I do not kneel and pray.

I have folded my pity in an envelope
and mailed it to God.