the wolf
waits for
her
riding hood
is aware
of him
her knife
needs
to bleed
Tag: dark
-
the dog
gnaws
the bone
the crib
yawns open
as the
grave
the rattle
is silent
-
kick him
hard he’s
down stomp
on his grasp
ing fingers
my daughter
is five
Implication and association. This haiku immediately revolts. Grasping fingers and a five year old daughter plus the opening action all lead us to the unthinkable. What has this man done? Why such an extreme action? Our minds immediately conjure up tales of abuse and impropriety. Perhaps not the subject matter for ‘refined’ poetry. This ain’t that.
-
drenched and spattered in open hard edged light
dining beetles
scuttle for food
rich tender wet love fills
as flies hatch
maggots teem in the full sun
putrid gracious and final
this banquet is the end of john alone in the woods
-
you lie there, not asleep
as i wash the blood from hands
worn rough from work and hate
that you ‘live’ in foreign lands
i might never see or visit
you have escaped my wrath
falling snow upon the roof
blanketing the well worn path
so i measure out the paraffin
striking flint to match
smiling as the flames grow
as i race to catch
up
with work like this, i am building up a morbid tableau – a snapshot of one determined to follow their lover into the beyond – looking at the body, still angered by the desertion of death by their hand as they set themselves aflame
Outlaw Poetry 