Along The Avenue

I must have missed the supper of the Lord;
Lying here cornered in careless rain,
As the lucky people walk by
Full fat and bemused by the sobbing leaves
Draped and doused in concern of me.
I must have outed a crime against humanity;
Shivering here cussing at the wayward wind
Smoking a dirt covered Marlboro cigarette,
As the ants quietly gather and work round my blood.
Whatever wrong turn I birthed will soon weep in wintry want,
Not of my trembling sullied pink hands
covered in tattered tawny cloth,
But of my guitar’s strings catching the glare of a rich man
Who barely hears its tune
slip and slide
up and down
his numb and ignorant lips.

***

Dr.Ernest Williamson has published creative work  in over 600 periodicals. His work has appeared in journals such as The Oklahoma Review, The Copperfield Review, The Columbia Review, and The Tulane Review. Dr. Williamson is an Assistant Professor of English at Allen University.