In Death In August/February , Ewan Wallace is as incredulous as he is amazed by death and those who fight against it in awful circumstances.
Kids are dying in houses strangled by kudzu vines
Houses in-between mangled sidewalks
Small-pocked with tufts of jaundiced wiregrass and goldenrod
That’s just how August is, I guess
Hell. No words
Kids are drifting off the face of the earth next to space heaters
Wrapped in piss-stained sleeping bags
Mumbling goodbyes in coal-thick snow
That’s just how February is, I guess
Hell. No words
They can’t even bury ‘em all in Huntington they die so quick
Hell. No words. I saw a kid once at the shopping center
He was in a hurry. He was gonna score. He had the flu
Hell. No words. He was in a bad way
Hell. My speech slurred just looking at him.
I talked to a guy nodding off at the Irish bar in town
He walked outside on his phone and went white mid-sentence
Fell head-first right into the curb
Hell. No words. Black jelly
Oozed out of his head instead of blood.
When the paramedics got there he was sneezing
Bright yellow bile then he went purple
And they asked me “has he taken anything”
Hell. No words. Other than “probably”
He didn’t have a pulse
They put a vial under his nose and he gasped
And they started with the rib-cracking CPR
And he died again
Hell. No words. He lurched back, gasping for a spell
Then he died a third time.
They cracked another rib and stuck their mouths
On his bile-caked lips and breathed
Into his tar-coated lungs just hoping
Hell. No words.
All for shit pay and no words they did it anyway, hell
Kids are dying in houses strangled by kudzu
vines
Houses in-between mangled sidewalks
Small-pocked with tufts of jaundiced
wiregrass and goldenrod
That’s just how August is, I guess
Hell. No words
Kids are drifting off the face of the earth next
to space heaters
Wrapped in piss-stained sleeping bags
Mumbling goodbyes in coal-thick snow
That’s just how February is, I guess
Hell. No words
They can’t even bury ‘em all in Huntington they
die so quick
Hell. No words. I saw a kid once at the
shopping center
He was in a hurry. He was gonna score. He
had the flu
Hell. No words. He was in a bad way
Hell. My speech slurred just looking at him.
I talked to a guy nodding off at the Irish bar in
town
He walked outside on his phone and went
white mid-sentence
Fell head-first right into the curb
Hell. No words. Black jelly
Oozed out of his head instead of blood.
When the paramedics got there he was
sneezing
Bright yellow bile then he went purple
And they asked me “has he taken anything”
Hell. No words. Other than “probably”
He didn’t have a pulse
They put a vial under his nose and he gasped
And they started with the rib-cracking CPR
And he died again
Hell. No words. He lurched back, gasping for a
spell
Then he died a third time.
They cracked another rib and stuck their
mouths
On his bile-caked lips and breathed
Into his tar-coated lungs just hoping
Hell. No words.
All for shit pay and no words they did it
anyway, hell
