c. allen rearick
C. Allen Rearick was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, still
resides there, works as a secretary for a pest-control company,
has been published in such magazines as remark, zygote in my
coffee, open wide, circle, mouseion and others. poetry_7827@hotmail.com
Blackout
These machine gun
fire eyes
trace rapidly
across a thin-skinned
back
but she
is unaware
and these
piano solo fingers
tickle the curve
of a napping clavicle
telling her
to remove
that frigid soul
for fear
I'll vanish
with these
head-ache hours
trying recklessly
to understand
her radio active generator
pulsing beats
of crimson
gas.
Self-Loathing Only Brings Rebirth
She sits
in the shadow
of her former self
scribbling her
self-penned vulnerabilities
the summer
is cold
and void
of rhyme
and the first hint
of edging winter
splinters her heart
the way a brick
writes through
a window
shattering a thousand words
penned unknown
but somehow
I am the victim
being scorched
by this rising avatar
and drowning
in the whirlpool
of her
blood.
Death Comes for us All
I am alone
the wind has died
trees fallen
silent
Death come for us all
I see it
in the
headlights
of a burning
car
on a rainy
day
in
the city
I hear it
in the cricket's voice
behind
the red
barn
I feel it
as the wind whispers
past
garbage cans
littered by
the
dying
they do not understand
they do not mourn
I wish them
to teach me
what it is
like
to not
feel.
The Past Still Haunts Me
The rain
upon my face
is disguising
these tears
that fall
like fine gestures
of missing
you.
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