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]