Near Zero Blog

A Free verse poem

Sunday wears makeup,
Tacky and shining
Like an eclipse
Describing cleansing
But deflecting 
Everyone’s hiding

Dresses rustle
Between oak seats
Sport coats
Wrinkled
With ties observed 
In a captive hanging
Chests split open
To pause upon the strain
Of redemptive living

Righteousness
Has some misgivings

Even hope points to death

Eyes lowered
I darn my steps with prayer
And insight
While a minister points his finger
Examines me with conviction
Prejudice parading as fact
I am homeless and wanting
That is all there is to that

Thank you for reading!

To read more of my latest poetry:
The Woman Who Gave Me the Finger
We Withdraw As We Get Older
Who I Am When No One Is Looking
Being Is Creating An I
The Fart Poem
I.T. Man
The Woman Who Soaked My Pants