On the beer aisle, at the second coming

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chrome shine and color

Box by box of dead sugar,

Fine hops and



You were counting on more time -

- But the King of glass is coming -

His cup brimmed with vinegar and gall -


As your teeth melt to black in your mouth.


From the tremulous east comes breath of fire



Sin snap

Red Rolled in wine-stain –


You’ve no place to run, brother,

Time only to clutch with sin-yellowed fingers at the pretzel rack 


as fissure and pulse of heat


come cleansing

Submitted: November 03, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Scott Livingston. All rights reserved.

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