the gun in my pocket (poem)

there’s a gun in my pocket
heavy with the essence of
	another man’s soul
still swirling in the smoky barrel
in this dark corner of this lonely
and forgotten
bar is the man who played
Thanatos and brought to
inevitable conclusion the yearnings
of a single human life
in this corner, sipping cheap
	whiskey 
		and smoking
foreign cigarettes is a
killer with a conscience
but you’d never know it
steady hands and 
	unwavering eyes
greet the bartender 
I order another
	shot
and pat my thigh, keeping
the soul in the chamber
	for just a little		longer
because, really, it’s  my soul
that’s been stolen by that 
	gun in my pocket

                            -Ron Sparks 2015-06-02
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One Response to “the gun in my pocket (poem)”

  1. Awesome!

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