like the bones of miro

John Sweet

and if the poem is not a place
and if the word is nothing more than
a smaller form of violence
then here we are
a woman choked to death by her lover
and left on the kitchen floor
a film about jesus christ
the spikes driven through his flesh
and the meth labs all shut down
in the town i grew up in
and this man with shaking hands
at my door
yellow teeth and yellow eyes and
he says he knew my father
says he knows that
everything i’ve ever written is a lie
but that he knows how to keep quiet
says twenty bucks
looks over my shoulder
at my wife
becomes nothing more than the
sound of rain at three in the

John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include Heathen Tongue (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A Flag on Fire is a Song of Hope (2019 Scars Publications).