Crime Room

               

Bloody candle wax stained cigarettes. 

Red rice soaked foot print. 

Hollering banshee in the corner the light nurtures 

concealment of darkness.

It flickers and can’t resist partial diagrams of complicitious shade.

There wasn’t a memory of this venomous smell or taste to compare it to. 

No snake charming remedy at the front door. 

How could you know it would recoil? 

Blind and with nowhere to move even in the back woods.

 

Opening

An image develops in a dark room.
A crowd moves past rope knotted seahorse drawn pencil and ink ushers.
Mirror strung sand reflections distort gallery sections.
The loose cannon powder from the austere veneer.
Light proof theory worn woodcuts.

Facing mistaking no time to think
the serene machine triangle points to what’s next.
The crooked wave appearing without pitching tent in sand or heaven.
The stuttered cicada echo chanting evening.
The ghosts in a dark row can’t wait to be seen.