The Sunday Poet: Michael C. Keith

Poet Michael C. Keith

Here is some prose poetry--from the Michael C. Keith universe.  Keith is a professor of Communications at Boston College. He is widely published in a number of genres.

Wound Dresser

Whitman brings them candy, books, and solace as their injuries from the uncivil war fester and resist healing. He loves their youth and listens to their battlefield accounts as intently as any minister or parent would. The great army of the sick relentlessly fills hospitals with its maimed and distressed as the bard of democracy holds vigils for the countless dying. Later at his makeshift desk in the embalming station he sets to paper the tears that have accumulated in his quill.

Photo Noir

A body slumps in the Chevy convertible sedan. Its bloodied head hangs from the window. Cops are standing around waiting for the coroner to arrive. Already on the scene is Weegee, the ubiquitous press photographer. This is the second killing he’s shot since midnight. He hopes he’ll get in a couple more black-and-whites of low-life before the night is over. It’s been a slow one, he thinks.