A House Of Cards Is Fragile
We laid side by side with ancestors.
Smelling their rotting necks
To acquire a scent
Of hickey meditation.
To empty handed gestures.
Like razor blades
In a diagnosed teenager's fingers.
To advertise a life
Of eternal damnation.
On public access,
Watching blue eyes gloss.
As if rain clouds
Down the aisle
To a black tie gala.
Confused if the round of applause
Is for charity,
Or the funeral.
I'll stand at the edge.
Studying the skipping pebble
To discover the darkness
At the end
Of six feet under.
I'll just close my eyes.
A.j. Binash's Other Poems
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