May Day

When a town is cremated,
only shadows line the street
to watch the parade.
As a plague of ashes swirls around
the marching band and their seventy-six trombones
the rest of us slump like road kill at the Coachmen
where the beer’s the coldest thing for 50 miles.

And while some old guy at the next booth
foretells the Second Coming in the ruins
at Railroad and Main, swears
he’s seen the face of God
in the smoldering caraganas,
you laugh so hard
your spit flies clear across the table
and meets my face like a third degree fist.

And if I thought you were a bastard before,
I can tell in the burned-out sockets
where your eyes used to be
before they melted,
you’re just a carcass of a bastard now.

~ Carla Maj-Pfleger

Carla Maj-Pfleger is a teacher and writer from St Albert, Alberta. She shares her love of Canadian LIterature with her children who in turn share everything from Geronimo Stilton to The Hunger Games with her. She has previously been published on and more recently, Room Magazine’s issue on Spirituality.

To read more of Carla’s poetry click here

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