Thursday, May 18, 2017

Steven Porter writes

Grave Robber

I hear shoveling outside. I'm too drunk to lift my 
head from the pillow, but the digging is growing louder.

I trudge across my room and peek through the blinds. 
I see a pot-bellied, gray-haired man driving 
a shovel into the earth with a lantern overhead, 
hanging off a crooked tree branch.

The man plunges into the hole, feet first; a 
loud thud echoes (I assume he hit the casket).
Several minutes later he resurfaces holding several 
rings gleaming under the lantern and a pearl necklace.

I continue to watch him inspect his 
spoils while I sip a half-empty, warm beer.
I turn back to go to bed, thinking, "I should 
apply for his job. I might make my rent on time."


 -- Tom Huck

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