THE DOCTOR

Frozen to the core, even the seeds

Have not escaped the frigid icing

From decaying the lifeline of one’s

Future -- The shock spread like a deadly rash

At once from the lips of the man

With the dark brown, earthworm lips.

Even though, no harm was predetermined his

words cut Like razors -- slicing through layers of

What we once thought we understood --

Enthralling Our minds with horror and bitterness.

The pungent smell of alcohol in the surrounding corridor confirmed

What would likely be an impending, acutely dreadful surrender.

One could sense the casket being lowered slowly into the ground.

Our bodies laden with grief and minds with 20/20 hindsight--

Was a queasy duo, which churned our guts yet left no room

For any fight to be won.

Sean S. Smith