inside out

The body smoldered in the remains of the house
for a day before they

The grotesque scramble of scorched bones,
blackened flesh and fragments of fabric
howls amid the shattered ruins of the house
like carrion in a horror flick. Rodents and insects
unaccustomed to such pickings scurry around
the margins of artistic lawns to attend.
Neighbours fuel up from behind custom-made
venetian blinds like drivers slowing to gawk.

The nightmare is framed by a yellow police ribbon
haunted by an aura of dark smoke and the stench;
blinking, sleeping and waking will not dismiss it.
It will always be the place that festering mismatch
simmered into his knife slashes that trashed
her life in a parking lot. and exploded his furies
screaming into everyone’s. The stink of ashes
steals into kitchens and bedrooms—looking
for all the other kindling waiting for ignition.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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