Thomas Bowser

Becoming, Become, Became

	I heard 

Life may begin in polka-dots,
but can end with argyle socks,
Leather belts seeking trouser slots,
Half-smoked cigars and well-watched stocks. 
					
        There are

Men digging outside with dirt spots. 
While Truckers tend their iron flocks,
Death looks under streetlights, blood clots
Percolate in a coffin box. 

	Quiet  

Dejection is an unpaved road
She shows me how my feet should fall.
Each step a mistake, prior-sowed.
It’s harvest season. Reap it all.

Thomas Bowser is a recent college graduate and a poetic hopeful. His poem “Samsara” was recently published at Quibble Literature.