Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Day 12 of April 

Some of what I write is angry and sad. I figure it's better on the page than in my head.


Sadistic Killers

Bats
and red velvet
chase June through October;
mysteries abound as
unlikely strangers meet
in between knife
edges. The eyes
entwined, (our) legs
encased in frozen blood;
surface tension
exudes through pores and
troughs,
throughout sonar echoes lost
on moistened corpses.
A dress your mother wouldn’t 
be caught live in sits
upright; makeup stains
blank faces;
icicles refuse to melt
into view;
focus to know
the whereabouts
of death.
flap flap flap
Knife die,
victim live.

[© 1998]

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