If the Dead Could Talk

There has to be a fine line,

and if so, where do we make a stand?

Robbing a dead man

without cultivating a diseased sense of humor,

the dead’s eyes pushed into the sockets,

as he goes through his pockets,

straddles the body,

one foot on either side

of the dead man’s waist,

and without haste, and distaste,

he begins tugging violently at the pants,

the awkward effort jerks the body a few inches

across the sidewalk,

if the dead could talk,

sin is sin,

and the fat get fatter,

leaving a thin film of matted blood,

and brain matter

where the head wound scrapes the road,

insanity would unfold,

and humanity is left out in the cold,

he forces his grubby hand

inside a front pocket,

causing perhaps a dollar in change to fall,

sanity would stall,

and nothing good could come from this at all.

Reviews

[midiel]

This is disturbing, and so nicely done.

[Coyote Poetry]

You create a wild vision with this poem. Remind me almost of the movie where someone stole a dead man shoes and had a bad life. I like the description and detail. Felt like doing something wrong and still doing the deed. A strong poem with a very good story. A excellent poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Michael X]

this poem is reality and the cold hard world at its best, you have an amazing way
with perception, you've expressed this with wisdom and experience.
perfectly expressed in light of tragedy, a talented job, loved it :)

[Heather D]

This is morbid and intriguing at the same time. Beautifully worded and a haunted poem!