September 2009 — Dead Teenagers at Make-out Point

by Peter Diseth

The barbed wire fence
On a dusty dirt road
Lies broken in the middle.

A gaping rusty hole
Painted thick with crimson fire
Drip-drips from ragged wire.

A bit of bubbly flesh
Clinging to the post
Reeks of the lesser beyond.

What tried to escape
May not have succeeded;
What tried to intrude
Left a public mortal mark.

There is no sun on the road at night
No moon in the ink black sky.

But the Hound’s wet nose
To the ground, beneath
Will find you just the same.
Will find you where you lie.

Peter Diseth has published a number of poems, short stories, and essays both online and in print.  His most recent poetry credits include Sinister Tales and MindFlights magazines.  He currently lives in New Mexico with the love of his life, and if you can’t find him at his computer writing like mad, then he’s probably out on the balcony with a Spirit in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other.

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