Jack Foster

Once Again

The dead, decaying bodies
lie in the crevice of
his black, dormant mouth.
He waits….
                    he knows…ONCE AGAIN,

the insistent rope tugs
on his bare neck as
the greedy gas begins to explode,
shoving him onward into a melancholy spin,
he turns in his sleep but
the rope pulls harder and
the gas chokes him on,
forcing him….
                    to begin.

Once again,
he is the swishing blade of conformity,
he knows
through their eyes
he is waiting to hack them down
they stand erect;
full of outward pride as
the dull roar of doom approaches,
with their hands holding underneath them
as an underground web of
multitudenal strength.

Once again,
as he sickenly slices through
all of their dignity
he tries to tell them
that….         he,
is only
the conductor
through which..Through which
the Hate
channels through,
and hacks at them,
but their bodies clog
his stammering mouth
and the dull roar consumes him
making his words

Once again,
the capricious sadness
overwhelms him,
thickening the gas in his veins
causing him to sputter,
and finally,
die                but
  it is
            too late,
he has done his job.

Again once,
he remembers
for the first time,
that he will always fail:
for the nurturing cycle
of growth and rebirth
and the victims forget,
occupied with
their long, green work,
giving him a saddened
sigh of relief
once again

he mows the lawn…


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.