One For Cory
I heard your brother
is down in the boonies
living in chicken shacks
hooked on the same shit
that took the air from your lungs
and left another son
without a father
will it ever end?
will the damned
be forsaken?
will you call me
again at 3 am looking to score?
The other night at McDonough’s Pub
I saw the old crew
we talked about you
and we never talked about you
when you died
we just let it haunt us
the boys are looking for more
to green grasses in other places
that don’t stink of poverty and death
the garden state
has more poppies than orchids
all the roses I’ve known
have bled and broken
trying to make it out
of the concrete
sometimes I smile
hoping that somewhere in celestial solace
you are on a stage that isn’t in drug court
that you’re singing and free again
that you finally learned the guitar
Cory I pray that somewhere
you are eighteen forever
that, that beautiful smile
never leaves your face
and you never know pain again
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About the Author: Damian Rucci’s work has recently appeared in Cultural Weekly, Beatdom, Big Hammer, and coffee shops and basements across the country. He is an author of three chapbooks and a split Former Lives of Saints with Ezhno Martin. Damian hosted the Poetry in the Port reading series, currently hosts the Belle Ringer Open Mic and is a poet in residence at the Osage Arts Community in Belle, Missouri. He can be reached at damian.rucci@gmail.com
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More by Damian Rucci:
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Image Credit: Thomas J Flagg “VIEW NORTHEAST- DETAIL OF BRIDGE TRUSSES, NEW TRACK SHOWN ADJACENT TO BRIDGE” (1995) The Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 
Say it, brother poet.
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