10 minutes too late

black-eyed dragonfly floats

her half-words crookedly,

like a wounded haiku

ready to freefall into a cold

state of eternal Zen;

 

her majestic green & gold

lame dress, soiled

& torn at all corners.

 

wish she would’ve called me

before he got into

the house.

 

thick wet steam

of her gunshot screams

still hangs

like a mourner’s veil

over the crime scene

melodrama.

 

necrotic bile

floods the gritted teeth 

my sorry existence.

Reviews

[roarke]

I once lost ten minutes of my life for a whole year.... I'd hate to think this is what occurred during those lost minutes...

Fabulous fabrications, like my favorite artist, Salvadore Dali, surreal painter of words. Gunshot screams indeed.

[Robin]

fear is damn ugly thing

and regret , might as well be made of bricks

[MuSe Ampoule]

Wow...what an image/scene. "like a mourner's veil" impressive line to describe...that. I really felt the soul punching disappointment for being late to...this...too late to help. wow.