The Death Sentance of Promise

It was all promise then,
promise the color and texture of
the purple clematis curling up
the wall beside my grandmother’s

back door, edged midnight dark
with a vein of magenta at the center.

I always knew it would end,
promise like that burns
too hot, turns to ash,
and floats away on whatever
breeze happens by. I would

play in her back yard and feel
that breeze when I was small, imagining
myself the queen of coon dogs
in Praeter’s Creek. I would walk

the path to the iny graveyard
full of my ancestors who died coated
so thick with the dust of another
man’s prosperity that they spit
coal. I would sit and trace the angels

and vines etched in their stones and feel
that burning, even then I knew
what it was to hurt in some long distant future.

1 Comment

Filed under Frustrations and Rants, Musings, poetry

One response to “The Death Sentance of Promise

  1. this is beautiful!!!!!!!

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