Moth Balls are Toxic

Personal Poetry

Poetry  moth balls are toxic

Cheap cologne masks a fading military pea coat

that holds one thousand

and one deaths at Normandy,

and stale sweat

from one thousand

and one decisions

that remain shut in a dusty mahogany chest in the attic,

belonging to no One.

.

Spiderwebs,

spider bites,

the hickeys of lonely men who can’t get enough

of that stinging mist they had one year

at sea.

.

Loose buttons stained with the illusion of

burnt blood, and moth balls

stuffed into pockets by a loving wife

who refuses to put the sick pup to sleep,

let alone ask her husband

what happened

when he went away to war.

Poetry  moth balls are toxic Poetry-_Moth_Balls_are_Toxic.jpg

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