The Ultimate Sin

a poem

By K.B. Silver Published 3 years ago • 1 min read

Spit them calmly in my eyes.

Spill them purposely on the floor.

Leave them in the sun to spoil.

Loan them out on compounding interest,

withholding from the poor.

Stow them in the attic packed up, under a sheet in the corner.

Steal them from the grocery store in a secret pocket

only checking once out the door.

Whisper them to God with full confidence and pride.

Write them into law striking down those you dislike.

Paint them into masterpieces making life what you desire.

Pluck them from a chicken’s craw, throw them down, stomp it out.

Line them up on the window sill shoot them with your BB gun, like that songbird you took out last spring.

List them in your diary, scented, locked, and powder blue.

The ultimate sin, not the deception, no matter how blatantly said.

Rule number one: never break the quiet game.

To point it out, tsk tsk, how unladylike of you.

K.B. Silver

K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.

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