by Cam M. Roberts

The rural dark varies
from time to time,
It’s quite distinct
from regular darkness.

It don’t sit well in a heart of hearts
cause of handed-down morals,
how the evening can raise a person
while evil happens all over the earth –
Your secluded acre and a half.

But what if I am a Bastard?

No one ever came,
and I have gardens
in my mind that will
never amount
to nothing, not a hill
of beans.  Yes, and I’ve also
got secret hiding places
in my soul that
will never be sought out.  Yes, but the
effort, none have time for all
that and come out now
where ever you are.  Yes, now tell
me, where is the rest of you?
All our burdens laid down upon their reveal.

Never enough, are my original
sins forgiven yet, the years
are bleeding out,
They are indebted like I am
to the horror that is for now
your blessing –

The missing parts of me are all strewn out across your normal world


  © CMR, 2012