No bad act
goes unrewarded.     Maybe history
is a series of conspiracies.
Returned to your front door
the prodigal sin.
It is always the murderer
who writes the accepted history.
Is the aftermath of dishonor
built up into credence.     Bad acts
with a life of their own &
the copious suffering
that defines life
too distracted to take heed of past tense.
Always fire
would rain down immolation
an engine of abrasive time
the machinery cranking faster &
rending so much flesh.
revising once incited umbrage.
gilded eggshell smooth
by the revisional rhetoric
of rent
stitched &
patched-up haphazard.
Of platitude
that teach me ambush
to merciless kill
to cut with my hands
surgically to disobey & explode
through the walls that bear down
deadweight to be reckoned with.
& always we dig
in disregard to stigmata.     Our future
only raised palms in the air.
Our frustration
digging up the desert
until we unearth the relic
once lost in a dream of our past.
                                   Until we heal.

henry 7. reneau, jr. writes words in fire to wake the world ablaze: free verse illuminated by courage that empathizes with all the awful moments, launching a freight train warning that blazes from the heart, like a chambered bullet exploding inadvertently. His poetry collection, freedomland blues (Transcendent Zero Press, 2014), was released in September of 2014. He also has an e-chapbook, entitled physiography of the fittest (Kind of a Hurricane Press, 2014), which was released in December of 2014. Additionally, he has also self-published a chapbook entitled 13hirteen Levels of Resistance, and is currently working on a book of connected short stories.