deepundergroundpoetry.com

AMONGST THE SHATTERED GLASS

It is red, the rose, clear
Erect in the vase
Sweat upon the glass
Halo of water is left
On the counter
When the vase is tipped
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It is red, the eye, tears
In fever, it is heat
Grimacing back at him
It is regret, and shattered glass
And the deep lacerations
On his hands
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It is red, the floor, smears
And handprints
A photo, the crimson sea
The lighthouse roof
And the family car
They all rest now
On the side of his bed
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They are red, the tears he shed
Dripping from his forehead
The handle of the gun
And the bullets, hastily removed
The lights from the front door
And the last shot
The wall of his room
And the cherry of smoke
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As red as the last living thing
The rose that remained
Beyond the tape
Amongst the shattered glass