The Grave In Need Of Rehab, by Anthony Liccione

the grave in need of rehab
is in rejection,
a mirror
of guilt,
blaming
the god of
birth, worth
useless words
that die off
defenselessly,
and never
satisfied
its stomach
so full
of dead bones
and earthly
wombs of
worms,
yet still hungry
wanting more,
to lick, to taste,
and devour
every hour,
its like it has
a earthquake
of spasms,
and massive
panic attack
withdrawals
if a shovel
isn’t digging
deep into the dirt
of its heart,
and dropping,
swallowing
coffins like
rancid pills,
draining the
acid rain
through
its veins,
and tripping
the fly
in spider webs
to die,
the grave
has a face,
everybody
remembers
and
everybody
wishes to forget,
like a song
at a wedding
a couple
marry to, and
years later
having that
same song
haunt them
divorced,
I heard
the grave took
the worst hit
of all,
when it had
to swallow
down
bob hope
in despair,
a wrinkly,
old hope
and his
pointy nose,
it vomited
him up
a few hours
later in a flood,
and down
he went some-
where in a
stream,
still it
chokes out
jesus come
the second
and take
elizabeth taylor
before
she croaks.
Anthony Liccione lives in Texas with his two children. His poems have appeared in several print and on-line journals, forthcoming in Twisted Tongue, The Stray Branch, Clutching at Straws, Lucid Rhythms, Fantastic Horror, The Beat and Poetry Repair Shop. He is an author of four collections of poetry books.