Murder
an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean
an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean
vultures overhead-
circling waiting before
feasting on the dead
–
red skies-
a tempest
at our door
drowning each of us
in the blood of our comrades
within sight of shore
–
tulips blossom-
death takes no heed
upon who’s grave
life gets in the way-
in my haste I neglected
to say I love you
–
shifting skies-
one simple
phone call
dusting the knickknacks-
doing my best to ignore
the crumbling walls
–
afternoon light-
fresh paint on
cracked concrete
a field of shadows-
the bargains made with myself
so swiftly broken
–
a full flower moon-
silver shadowed
daffodils
on the edge of sleep-
hours before my alarm rings
each noise a crisis
–
suddenly awake-
a murderer
or my cat?
white foam at her lips-
on ebon hooves she gallops
through the endless night
–
riderless-
the bearer of
secret horrors
footprints in the sand-
the incoming tide covers
any trace of me
–
amid the leaves-
an adder’s
shed skin
winter’s dying breath-
the winged herald of spring
arriving too late
–
morning frost-
tender lilac buds
robed in ice