too many of them, ranging in quality:
They had to do it
pressure from one in the group
swamp gas vile as booze
in back the pickup
two twin red plastic gas cans
dream of burning you
looked at the wrong girl
or some grand diss forgotten
as smoke and stink rise
steel-toe boots stomp reeds
to ash, as mosquitoes wait
dinner hot tonight
this body not found quick
no eyes there but the forest’s
charred flesh in its teeth
proud men weep as much
as anyone when shadows cloak
their shame, their wet eyes