Daniel Ivan photo
By
John Sweet
we fall apart
self-portrait on the coldest day of the year,
naked in the ice-choked water and laughing
not your grandfather’s suicide,
but the birth of your first child
the windows stained with frost
all minor parts of the same bitter story and
it’s here that this
12 year old girl hangs herself
it’s here that she reaches a point where
suicide is a better option than life and
the failure is yours and
the failure is mine and she
needs to have her name carved into stone
needs to have her story replace
the pointless shit scribbled onto the
pages of holy books
needs to be remembered as the one
untainted truth in this palace
of man-made gods and false kings
the false king’s lament
man on fire in the middle of the
street and he won’t let you ignore him
wants to shake your hand
says he remembers your father
all of those drunken nights in the
whorehouses on the outskirts
of gethsemane and he
tells you your family isn’t safe
he offers to sell you a gun
explains that not everyone’s
truth is the truth
that not every corpse
should be lamented
offers to show you a
trunkful of murdered children
worth nothing at all
John Sweet
john sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living. A believer in writing as catharsis. An optimistic pessimist. Avoids zealots and social media whenever possible. His latest collections include BASTARD FAITH (2017 Scars Publications) and the limited edition HEATHEN TONGUE (Kendra Steiner Editions). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.
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