May Poem 1: Knuckles Knuckles Down

Knuckles, the belt down contained camera

Invited to have a God, said one word

And blinked into existence.

Put down and faced

Ready watch pocket shoulders.

“I am the one and only meeting with our boss.”

His trips to the Chinese restaurant,

Anything but collecting dust,

But it sure would make

The newfangled computers.

 

Detective Barnes, his partner,

Ranges through the valleys

And to all places in between.

Lifted jacket to the pages,

Desk cluttered, not designed.

He nodded, “It’s too, you know…”

 

Knuckles insisted on bringing a gun

In the event God had a brother.

The lack of evidence of the existence of another

Would be both hands slowly as if

To smooth his however.

“Lefty hunched forward to send

My own son to die for nothing.

My will is the law,

And my words are held up as the highest

For willing mind reading,

And humanly understanding.”

He motioned for the detective

To expedite the completion of his will

To the love and peace of heaven without

First walking the Cadillac.

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