“The Cross In My Pocket” © Mark Blickley

 

Souls of Little Men

The imagination strains to see them flicker
when a microscope might do the trick.
For real, the sickest weasels rise,
take your pick, it will not matter.
Why we rest on sticky hands while
being slapped about the face
is a question our dream-selves
may answer when we choke them.
Pull the rope now and see what
tumbles from the ceiling. Surely
an angel or two is tied to an end.
Or when we begin seeing hope
as the end of a tunnel, will we
run to it or hide behind our scruples?
There is nothing to be had beyond
the blackout flannel curtains.
Humans with vendettas
and ugly agendas rage.
All you need to do is relax,
relax and rest your mind
while they complete the tiny
masterpieces of their madness.

 

Salvatore Difalco writes from Toronto Canada.

Mark Blickley grew up within walking distance of New York’s Bronx Zoo. He is a proud member of the Dramatists Guild, PEN American Center, and Veterans For Responsible Leadership. His latest book is the flash fiction collection, Hunger Pains (Buttonhook Press).