THE COLORS OF THE SKELETON MAN

To the tune of “Sing a New Song”

Through the dull bronze of wicker’d light
Tapestry in olive and husk
Through the bushes and dandelions
In sundown swathes of rye

Float from this place, a chirp and a squeal
Serenading the precious dusk
Agape at them, nestled in sprawled twigs
Twittering in leaves above

There on high, with blueberry wings
Curious small eyes of black glass
They sing on, ever pleasantly
Down shrill notes in sweet grass

Sing from here on up to the Lord
Let your song be sung from shrubs and briars
Sing from here on up to the Lord
Then let it be heard by I!

The colors of the Skeleton Man (V.#1)

Pale
Is the hollowed face
Shrinking into
A blank collar

Gray
Is the lined loose suit
Hanging from bones
Lazily, it is old and tired

Green
Is the collection basket
He plods forward,
Questioning the pew ahead me

His face stutters words muttered
for two-thousand years
“Pay yer dues ye sinner
Lest th’ al-mighty
- Jerked back, it doesn’t finish

Black
Is the debtors sweater
On hazel sculpted wood
Meagerly shrinking away

Milk
Is the statue
That scowls down
on us

Copper
Is the light
That slants through
The silent scene

Deft
Are the steps
The Skeleton man
Takes toward me

Blurry
Is he, he prods me
with the basket
I look up and blink

A Very Gallant Gentleman

I am dragging stumps of ice on weary legs while the men of my labor pull ahead of me
Leave me whispering in my sleeping bag.
Leave me freezing in the snow.
Leave me dying on the ice

John McCurdy is a poet and high school student from Atlantic, Iowa. His debut poems on topics such as nature and imagery have been published in the Adelaide Literary Magazine.