antenna
grey sky and the
low hum of traffic and the
indifferent smear of the sun
a house on fire in
another part of town
the bones of indians and
the garbage dumped at the edges
of parking lots and
the old men who pick through it
the way you become the town
your children poisoned by
the chemicals dumped into the soil
or your wife's distance
after the abortion
the silence
when you answer the phone
when you stand in the back yard
trying to remember if your father
ever told you he loved you
trying to remember
how you ended up here
waiting for someone
to tell you you're forgiven
© John Sweet 2004