Lawrence Block

Written for:  Poetic Asides #481 – “Pick any writer, make him/her the title of your poem, and then write your poem.”

He knows where
the bodies are buried,
has a ticket to
the boneyard. When
the sacred gin mill
closes, it’s time to go
get sober–give it a shot–
if not, he will be walking
among the tombstones. One
drop of the hard stuff,
and Scudder is a goner. He
is trying, but you know,
everybody dies. He will
just beat the end of
a long line of dead men.
He knows where
the bodies are buried.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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