Remembrance
comes shrieking out of me
like the sound of
tires screeching on pavement
~~~
Relief just as great
as seeing I've stopped
a hair's breath from the pole
~~~
Breath waning
like the sound trailing off
round the corner
as an ambulance goes by
until it finally dwindles away
~~~
Glasses fogged and
slipping down my
face in the stream of
tears and snot flying off
as I cough and snivel
~~~
Every sound left in silence
every oppressive smell
setting upon me
enclosed spaces filled with
people just another pressure trap
~~~
I know it will never find them
yet somehow this feels like
recompense, final payment
tens of thousands, only monetarily
~~~
How do you extract
pay from the desiccated
disintegrating corpse
of a memory?
the fate avoided
like the sick on the bus
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 5 days ago
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl7 days ago in Fiction
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