In the end, a "spider's hole"
the coiffed blond newscaster called it with a smirk;
buried alive in a tunnel beneath the desert
where even Allah wouldn't think to look for you.
And what if He did
cast an imperial eye down that ochre hole
to where you were so alone, curled into a ball
reading Crime and Punishment
and recounting cash in the suitcase,
$750,000 in unmarked American currency. O, the ironies
abound to the point of a fever swell;
did you get the chance to think on them
at all? In your desperate effort
to keep ahead of the relentless machine... Read more
TAGS:
creative writing,
poem