by Dan Corjescu

 

You could have done better

You should have done better

Wash your face

Clean your shoes

Don’t matter the heroin in your papa’s blood

Don’t matter the fester in your mama’s vulva

You should have done better

Get a job

Find a school

All those books are open

for you, you lyin’ fool

But the curve of death has lines

so finely drawn in your inside

that the nails He scratched with

burned out your eyes

and all the sunshine on all those perfect lawns

look like a thousand smirking little deaths

ready to grab you; already condemn you to death

You’re a victim of the system

You’re a bad boy in the making

You deserve what’s coming

We told you so

But none have made the clarion move of overarching love

And none could

for they push their gleaming babies in their calculating carts

and gurgle their unhappiness in blogs and half-backed T.V. plots

and the striped tiger stirring bright with the power of ghetto rights

moves unaware unopposed daring to dare

since to live was not his fair share

but to die was a given

for he had it coming

this mother fucker

this drug dealer

this wife stealer

this pedophiliac beast eater

he had it coming

like all mother fuckers

the stain of his birth is no excuse

for the curse he will bring to unblemished protected youth

lock it up; burn it out; stop it

do anything

but do not love it

drop the hydrogen bomb man

let’s face it now

Love ain’t coming out of the bunker

never


 

Dan Corjescu is still burning—slowly.

 

This poem originally appeared in issue 6.