25 May 2007 | Vol. 7, No. 1
Campfire Overthrow
At the campfire, they sang, "Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down."
I drank beer from a can and passed around a bottle of whiskey.
My chair took me in—it sank me in with the guitar, the banjo, the sound
of a campfire rendition of "Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down."
I saw through the ceiling of stars, and heard them bring Him down
with their smoke signal or torch song, their variation on the tired plea.
At the campfire, they sang, "Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down."
I drank beer from a can and passed around a bottle of whiskey.
About the author:
Sarah Byker James teaches writing at Rutgers University-Camden, where she recently completed her MA in English, and at Moore College of Art and Design. Her poems have been published most recently in MARGIE: The American Journal of Poetry and are forthcoming in cæsura.
For further reading:
Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 7, No. 1, where "Campfire Overthrow" ran on May 25, 2007. List other work with these same labels: poetry, rhyme.
