I’m Dead

Bats breaking bones in my face

Leaving deep cavitations in my head

My shattered chest last heaved half-heartedly

I’m dead

There’s thick, metallic clots in my mouth

Pavement and broken glass for a bed

Hit and run at fifty plus

I’m dead

Forty-caliber shell casings marked with chalk

Yellow circles around fragments of lead

Detectives look on as they zip me up and away

I’m dead

A gaping laceration across my throat

Like a geyser I exsanguinated hot and red

One quick swipe with a switchblade

I’m dead

Bruises in the shape of handprints

Through a constricted airway I pled

Just let go and I’ll settle my debt

I’m dead

The smell of cooked meat and burning plastic

Deafened bystanders full of dread

A smoldering shell of an exploded Chevy Nova

I’m dead

Crosshairs aimed at my unaware face

White and expressionless lit in infrared

A steady squeeze of the rifle’s trigger

I’m dead

All these experiences that I’ve collected

These pages I’ve written and read

An entire life turned off like the TV screen

I’m dead

Daniel Silver