still
life with cubicle
by
Jack T. Marlowe
a
casket
without
the
comfort
of
satin
or
silence
a
burial
without
the
undertaker's
kindness
or
the
sweetness
of
freshly
turned
earth
a
stinking
corpse
flower
rooted
in a
tragic
plot
a
living
death
a
loss
without
condolence
you
should
be
more
appreciative
they
say
as
a light
rain
falls
a
drizzle
of
nickles
and
dimes
upon
the
corporate
sepulchre
street
salvation
by
Jack T. Marlowe
a
crusty
dumpster
catches
its
slam-
ming
lid
with
the
grace
of
a
make-
shift
kettle
drum,
the
down-beat
of
a would-
be
street
preacher's
cryptic
hymn,
a
mealtime
prayer
half-sung
half-mut-
tered,
as
Jeremiah
leans
against
the
Stop-
n-Shop
then
falls
silent,
fills
his
mouth
with
the
crumbs
of
day-old
communion
a
handful
of
salvation
for
a hun-
gry
soul
his
grateful
belly
hug-
ging
the
bible
in his
waistband
while
the
crack
pipe
in
his
pocket
still
aches
to
be
fed
a
dog named Silence
by
Jack T. Marlowe
the
sound of
gunfire
hasn't
been
heard
in this
neighborhood
in
almost
four
years
and
the lady
next
door
has
a dog
named
Silence
the
relative
calm
here only
broken
by the
occasional
boombox
on
wheels,
the
self-entitled
girlfriend
shouting
at
her
man, the
imbecile
laughter
of
drunken
vatos,
the
bearlike
mother
call-
ing
her child
to
get your
ass
in this
house
NOW
the
cartoon
music
of los
paleteros,
the
savage
scream
of a
motorcycle
down
the
alley,
and
the
jarring
comfort
of
passing
sirens
on
this
street
where
the
lady
next
door
has
a dog
named
Silence
bio:
Jack
T. Marlowe is a gentleman rogue from Dallas, TX. A writer
of
poetry and fiction and a veteran of the open mic, his work has
appeared
in A Handful of Dust, Thunder Sandwich, Rusty Truck,
Red
Fez, The Vein, Bone Orchard Poetry
and other zines (online
and
print). Jack is also the editor of Gutter
Eloquence Magazine
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