Kerri Shying R - # 579 - The word was

saw his hands  stimming over lies

and thought    it’s good you’ll be gone

soon   those buckled bulbs  for

fingernails   the giveaway of a heart

about to blow   the eloquence of illness

far surpassed the itchy dogs that fell limping from his mouth

nothing he said worth a dollar on the

open market   no exchange rate    for

who’d pay  some stories   ought

to die   those names for things  rubbed out

in the sand   the beginning   it was the word