Weather Vanes and Suicides: Poetry Day 1

Here are some poems I wrote a while back. They both won minor awards in a small poetry competition, but I go to a really small college, so that doesn't really mean much. At any rate, I think poetry is an important art, so I thought I'd share some of my own. Cheers.





With His Finger - D. Araujo

I watched him do it
the man
he had a gun
it was black like when I close my eyes
and I watched him

I watched him because he was there
there weren't any people around just me
then he did it
with his finger this one
he didn't know I was watching
I didn't know I was either
I thought he was a man with a gun
not a leaky hole

it was red red on the ground
and I read it and it said
something but I couldn't hear it
because my ears were ringing
and then I couldn't see
because his eyes were staring

* * *
as I faced the mirror
it occurred to me
that
whenever someone dies
you have to clean up
the mess

a suicide dies to make a point about possession
but instead
robs himself
of the one thing
he never had

I killed myself
only because I wanted
to make a sound
as big as God
with my index finger