Greed (The Blood Window)

To look through a window and see
pedestrians as coin
and imagine them

going about their business
or carefree, 

draining from your pocket
instead of filling it
it is to forget who you are.

To look out 
your blood window
onto a flesh world

and see only metal people
is to think flesh and
skin are blast-hardened.

Is to be blind to
the way all flesh
tears itself open

under enough pressure,
is to be oblivious to
how a bullet splashes it.

How a machete 
pries it apart.
How a bomb spreads it

across a room. Looking out
your window of blood
and imagining that’s

moneyworld out there,
you have forgotten
you aren’t made of steel, either.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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