S. Liam Spradlin writes poetry and fiction. He has recently taken interest in writing poetry that goes beyond a hobby or pastime. His works have appeared in Scarlet Leaf Review, theSongis,Tuck, Degenerate Voices, Dissident Voice, Sequoyah Review and other journals and anthologies. He lives with his wife and published author Kim D. Bailey.
I feel the stare of the naked sun
Boiling into my brow. Everywhere I
Turn there is only seething
Wasteland. My spineless toes bleed
Footprints into the rotted sand. The soles of my feet
Burn a fiery orange hole across the blank sky.
I stop to rest. A red scorpion runs
Under my gasping sweat and hides in my shadow
While I swallow the last portion of forgiveness
From a rusted canteen. My jagged lips are filled
With grit and piercing sand. I can’t manage
Enough saliva to spit. Nor enough will power to
Dig my own grave. I sit down on what remains of
A human skull . I can barely make out the word
“Wretched” scratched in the dust. I gash my eyes with
Cactus but the Locusts would not come .
I shake the devil's fangs from my shroud
And cough bitterness back into desert
Air and begin.
Somewhere on an Island ( (For Deborah )