Murder Town – Jake Tringali

squirrel reaching for the greasy ledge
scrabbling for a perch
the carrion crow dives, on ancient cold instinct

four times for the swindler
scamming addicts with flash
until one needles him back, in the small of the back

gutterpunk eight-year-old
swings the wailing pussycat by the tail
faster faster, until his curiosity is killed

a circus thin man is tool shed dozing
his old fool boss prods, and jumbo thumps down
swiftly the axe fell, bony splinters

small-brained, deft hands, the barman catcalled
until a juke joint sniper poisoned his widow’s kiss
she served him well, with a last call blood cocktail

all-day inmate kept monkey mouthing
even the prison pastor kept secrets so
toilet baptism delivered his ass, forever to god

chronicling all the cursed murdertown drama
this storyteller angered every citizen
until they gave him a plot, marked unknown

Cambridge, MA
July 2015

After living in Los Angeles for many years, Jake is now back in his home city of Boston.  Runs rad restaurants.  Thrives in a habitat of bars, punk rock shows, and late-night adventures.  First published in 2014.  Journals include Catch & Release, Boston Poetry Magazine, Indiana Voice Journal, and thirty-five other fine periodicals.

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