Issue 2
Ruthless Heaven

Ruthless Heaven

On this day five years ago,
he is shot near the tree.
God takes no side in this.
The ocean stays pure.
His spirit rises past
the tropic of swallows
beyond the nylon skyline.

At his mother’s house
a solitary bulb shines
into the smudge where light
interdicts the dark.
Otherwise the void
casts no shadow.
His room stays empty,
door brilliantly obedient
to its closed nature.

I walk past the flower bed
of he who has departed,
hindered by the memories
no one wants to remember.
Even the world is pretending
that the stone marking
his grave was hewn yesterday.