All Your Heroes Are Bastards
by John Sweet
and can we maybe not
die for a change,
and can we maybe stay pure?
can the drugs actually work
for a change? and this is what it
sounds like he says or this is what she
hears and then the baby is gone
then the days start to grow colder
no sound in the first frostbit light of morning
but the song of your lover crying
no houses but the ones that
burned down when you were a child
neighborhood kid with a bucketful of
gas-soaked rags and his father’s zippo and it
feels so fucking good to laugh
stack up the bodies like firewood
sing your favorite or maybe
something by the stones,
’71, ’72,
something grimy and despairing and
why the hell did we even stay here? is what
he asks her and what is it she
says in response?
where is it she runs to
when he turns away?
there is nothing more pure than
the fine art of disappearing
die for a change,
and can we maybe stay pure?
can the drugs actually work
for a change? and this is what it
sounds like he says or this is what she
hears and then the baby is gone
then the days start to grow colder
no sound in the first frostbit light of morning
but the song of your lover crying
no houses but the ones that
burned down when you were a child
neighborhood kid with a bucketful of
gas-soaked rags and his father’s zippo and it
feels so fucking good to laugh
stack up the bodies like firewood
sing your favorite or maybe
something by the stones,
’71, ’72,
something grimy and despairing and
why the hell did we even stay here? is what
he asks her and what is it she
says in response?
where is it she runs to
when he turns away?
there is nothing more pure than
the fine art of disappearing
John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include A Flag on Fire is a Song of Hope (2019 Scars Publications) and A Dead Man, Either Way (2020 Kung Fu Treachery Press).