stranger down

Nothing grumpy about this piece at all, darkly rich, and ghastly – classic Hands in the Garden poetry!

hands in the garden

stranger downif you didn’t know me,
and you found me roadkill
on Bitcoin boulevard,

would you scream your
disgust and flee?

Would you pillage sticky pockets
searching for green..

or green?

would you roll
my expired beef over
to see extent of the bleed?

I cringe to think you’d gush to
piss that golden stream
so gleed.

maybe you’d call someone
bolder and practical
to deal with mess
of me?

perhaps you’d set up table
on the squishy bits and 
invite Aunt Bea for
jasmine tea?

maybe you’d say nothing,
to the oh nothingness of
it all,

or maybe, you’d reach grace
into space and give coroner
a call.

©Anthony Gorman 2019



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