JAMES MORSE

Sitting half standing proud and living some dead

atop the shelf melting into a laminate top dresser

the accolades of an age

once known and now thrown

over the shoulder

///

glance,

Pillar of Salt

right

forward

the next

one..

///

this one

isn’t good enough

unless it’s painted

gold

and covered in

Stars

///

ball of clay

rolled in my hand

crushed and scattered

on the

vacant lot (ash above Sower’s sown seed)

///

I gave that trophy to Thomas

considering it of no significance

having no idea

what I really wanted