Saturday, October 10, 2009

Dan Kasten

THE EXCHANGER OF SOULS

Deep inside my storefront cemetery
you scribble your last

will upon my walls

I then grab your most prized possession…
pocketing it

knowing that your soul
won't need it much longer.

1 comment:

  1. I like the build-up of tension with the start of the poem being dark then getting darker. Sounds like a tale from Stephen King, using the book of Counted Sorrows.

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