Poetry: The Assassination of Lincoln by James Walton

James Walton, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

Jim portrait head

The Assassination of Lincoln

I am breached through

the back of my head

an aperture

to where the grass is true

more civil than war

all these lifeless children


mother of pearl

a magnolia flower

opened by time’s rebuttal

half snow falling


as it trapes a zed pathway

whetted thousands, words

sacred as stamens

one republic incandescent


to hold falling to rituals

this penultimate fear

ideas beyond speeches

I am breathing, vermillion


fields sown by rhetoric

in a theatre bespoke to scene

out of Good Friday repast

too few the many values

grounded, here lies one flag

a dying unity

beyond aggregate the good in crime

for a living state

may turn to petal not to rise again

but, a little guidance in the law

wainscoted mahogany here

harsh seedpods all around