deepundergroundpoetry.com
Redemption
His thoughts had a chokehold
on his impulse. He gasped
for stillness, for the invisible
shine like a polished glass door
that glides silently open in the presence
of solemn commanders.
Streaked marble on the veranda
was splattered and splashed,
the large leaves slapped down —
red dust exploding, streaming
in warm torrents. He looked up,
skin merging with the purge, relieved.
He stalked forward, footsteps now hidden,
his fingers wrapped around the corded grip
of a survival knife.
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