On Dependence

By Reginald St. Louis

We enter onto the morning with
The creation, the gray dusk of
Dawn unfurling across the sun drenched
Sky like a thick yellow carpet.

The new day makes us wonder
About yesterday. When the hours
Quickly shrunk to minutes…
What he ordered for his last meal,
Whether he ate a cheeseburger
With French fries or had
A milk shake with a sirloin steak.
He had a notorious sweet tooth
So we hope they gave him candy bars.

Did he sing that old war song? Or cuss?
Did an angel leap inside his chest
To muffle his screams?
We couldn’t hear his last words
But he sure talked a lot.

Oh, we wonder…

Whether it was really sterile and quick.
Whether they tortured him trying
To find a vein –
Considering all the dope he’d shot.