She stares at those pulsating tealights,
sees nothing true, only what feels like truths.
I mop my brows; tell her that her crime scene
now leads to someone else.
She nods not, lights a cigarette
her husband used to hate.
Rain leaves the road thick-thighed, glistening,
reeking of a deed done and another undone.
The bushes reveal the skin of the asphalt,
naked and casual about its fatal effect.
I whisper, “Flesh to ashes, your household is fresh now.”
She answers not. Breeze obscures her expression
beneath the nicotine veil.
Illustration Nick Victor
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)