Updated: Jun 12
I am commiting suicide with a five iron/
I can feel little bits of me inside catching fire
with every inept swing / cauterizing whatever
part of my brain that thought there might be
joy found in such warfare / I can imagine
the days when savages fought by smacking
small rocks with big clubs at one another
from one hundred fifty yards out with a
ten mile an hour sidewind and
a sand trap in the adjacent rough / and
that image is as ridiculous as a grown man
with a metal rod paying handsomely for
the opportunity to smack himself on the forehead
when his ball flies directly toward the only
water hazard on the entire course / and I come
to the conclusion, yet again, that I would be best served
by walking to that pond bank / drowning my bag /
then my wallet / then myself.
Copyright. Tom Barlow.
Tom Barlow is an Ohio author of poetry, short stories and novels. His work has appeared in journals including PlainSongs, Ekphrastic Review, Voicemail Poetry, Hobart, Tenemos, Redivider, Aji, The New York Quarterly, The Remington Review, Aurora Review, and many more. See more at tombarlowauthor.com.