Chad Sweeney


Character Development

Soaked in pain
my suits remain standing
when I take them off,
hollow men beside the closet,
a museum of days. 

The seal suckles her pups
behind the grocery store
where a fish truck idles
and runaways from Minnesota
are frozen together at the mouth.

This is winter.
There is nothing turning
nothing rising
but snow from its bright drifts
falls back up into a cloud.

And one dumb flower,
a red hammer,
cracks the ice above it
to climb early
into its delicate statue.

© 2008 Electronic Poetry Review