Poem by Graham Isaac Redacted

Poem & Photo by Graham Isaac, Redacted by Arlo Jacob Smith

In the story he killed the family bore. For two years there was a parade. A world away he thinks his mother worries. Survive Seattle on cigarettes and beer. A clumsy cowboy reaches hands in pockets, afraid.

Hercule Poirot

Agatha Christie killed Hercule Poirot. His death song was locked in a safe during the blitz to be published if she did not survive. The man she described as "a detestable, bombastic, tiresome, egocentric little creep" would not outlive her. In 1975, with Christie's health and mind failing, "The Curtain" fell ignobly on Poirot. In the novel he takes his own life, after committing murder. The image of the incomparably punctilious detective was forever stained. 

C & H Pure Cane Sugar Confectioners Powdered Packaging Redacted

Scraping thinner a little at a time this milk sour minute.

Equaline Miconazole 7 Packaging Redacted

You may be human. Stop and ask.

Momentum

I have stumbled.
I am slowly slowing down.
Dripping fat like buttered bread.
Cooling, stale, dry and embittered.

I have stumbled.
I am slowly wearing down.
Stretching thin like spent elastic.
Formless, I fail to snap back.