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Leigh Pierce  (email)


About the Poet:

Leigh Pierce is a writer, poet, artist and basically just a jackass-of-all-trades. With over two decades of experience writing, he already has over twelve decades of work to show for it. The pages pile up next to the bills, and he takes turns sending them out. It just depends on how much money he’s got for postage. With nothing but endless time on his hands and visceral thoughts in his head, he creates some of the most unique writing available today. When not huddled over the keyboard, he’s kept (semi)sane by his wife and their two sons in Edgerton, WI.  His publishing credits include: Janesville Gazette, Edgerton Reporter, Wisconsin State Journal, The Isthmus, Slug & Lettuce, Profane Existence (1st ever printing of a fictional in their pages, issue #56), Gloom Cupboard (online and print edition), Literary Kicks, Lummox Journal, Word Riot, Fictionville, Hack Writers, Winamop, Hard Fiction, and Zygote in My Coffee.



A Single Tear of Togetherness


Sweat drips off me as I roll out of bed

Like always, she’s there in the chair

Watching over me, or just watching

Like a caged animal, seeing what I’ll do next

I sit on the end of the bed and look at her

She never speaks, never blinks

Just looks and smiles

A lone tear runs down her cheek

I try to talk to her but she won’t respond

I wonder if the tear is for me

Or for the pain felt when she died

Her body crushed, her organs smashed and punctured

Her soul ripped from what was left

But here she sits now

With a silent love that only a sister could have

The bond between siblings will never be broken

I will always be here for her, even though she’s gone

She will always be here for me, like always

And I know that every day

When I roll out of bed

My dead sister will be sitting right there

In the chair, silent

With that one tear rolling down her cheek


Stolen Moments


My entire life I sat by and watched my father dwindle away

His time, his life

Busting his ass, his back, his spirit

Trying to make a better life for us

So many birthdays and holidays missed

Mandatory overtime

Third shift

Fixing their fuck ups

Where would they be without him

I know where I was without him

At home, missing my old man

Every time he left for that hell hole

Coming home stained with steel and blood

Sweating pain and pride

Either at work, or too tired from work

They stole him from me

Arrest them

The company stealing from us

Stealing time from us

My childhood memories missing because of overtime

Two years out of retirement


You’ve been a great worker but we’re closing the plant

You can move to China if you want your job

Now they’ve stolen his time and broken his spirit

All the time, all trouble, all the overtime

Less than two years from his glorious finale

So close but so far away


ménage à trios of mine


Inspiration perspiration

Wanting both but it seems like a choice

Either ready willing and able


Struggling trying and failing

I want to attempt and attain

Try and succeed

Sitting here sweating, dripping, wanting to do

Wishing I was doing and finishing

But no, it’s one or the other

I want them both

At the same time

But instead, they pool up separately

Inspiration forming a puddle at my feet

Perspiration forming a puddle in my lap

Give me both

If I can’t perspire while inspired

Leave me to sit here dry and dusty

To dehydrate in a thought vacuum


Water Wings


I climb slowly up the ladder

Ascending steadily towards what could be heaven

From this distance it’s hard to tell

Vantage point yet to be determined

The rungs repeat themselves

Over and over like a drunken apology

My hands slip with every attempted grasp

My feet stumble with every step

I slowly make my way

Up the looming 200 feet

Knees shaking

Body trembling

My trip concludes at the edge of the diving board

Two bounces is all it takes

Sending my crippled body

Physically and emotionally

Swan diving into the two feet

Of ego in the shallow end of my existence



Digging For Memories


You were only five or six

Making me around three of four

28 years ago

But the memory as fresh as if it was this morning

You working so diligently in the sandbox

Carefully extracting the worms

Brushing the sand from them

As careful as a paleontologist

Brushing the dirt from a million year old bone

You rescued them

With your heart and your hands

With a little help from your blue plastic shovel

I watched in amazement at your delicate actions

The care you gave those slimy little things

I peeked out from behind the tree

Watching you with awe

As I always would

You would take them and set them on the bench

Resting them on the edge of the sandbox

Taking great care as to not hurt them

Awestruck, I would sneak up to get a closer look

Then when you turned your back

I would take your shovel

And smash them until their guts squirted out

I did so in jealousy

Because I wanted all your time

And attention to myself

Damn worms