Slate
Wipe me clean
without Clorox or bleach
just simple honesty
Sanitation is next to salvation
in some circles
Sacred vowels
squeak
ooh and ah
before sighing
Little spaces in the corner
dusted off
brought to surface
made to shine
Lord, help me find
the right words
to tithe
All I have
left to offer
are my dreams
***
Divorced from Self/Born Anew
One of the least enjoyable
experiences in life
is having one’s ego crushed,
but God knows
it may also just
turn out to be
the most important
in the end.
For better
or for worse.
***
Here and Now (and After)
Bury my bones
beneath the dirt
where trees once towered
before civilization took hold.
When the time comes,
let my remains
bathe naked in the soil;
no casket, no box,
no boundaries except
the caress of earth itself.
Dance and sing
atop the plot
where I’m laid to rest,
and make merry
at a funeral
filled with laughter.
But until that fateful day arrives,
let our eyes
flow with tears of joy,
let our tongues
tease out prayers of peace,
let our lips
shout words of love,
and let our lives be spent
making the most
of every moment
with which we’re blessed.
***
Wet Leaves
Drug me, and drag me
through the gutter;
I will splatter
in the vomit
of your love…
if you let me.
***
Scott Thomas Outlar lives and writes in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and selections of his poetry have been translated into Afrikaans, Albanian, Dutch, French, Italian, Kurdish, Persian, and Serbian. His sixth book, Of Sand and Sugar, was released in 2019 through Cyberwit Press.
Read more poetry on Bengaluru Review:
‘Each word is an angel’: Six poems by Bhaben Barua
‘It was spring and we suckled dreams’: Four poems by Linthoi Ningthoujam
‘My words don’t have a house to live in’ : Five poems by Namrata Pathak
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