Shadows Poem by jerry hughes

They walk in isolation.
Who are these shadows?
Nobody asks, nobody cares.

He walks lamely.
She with the easy elegance
of a childhood discipline.

He mumbles an incoherent mantra
to the rhythm of the traffic.
She hears him and asks,
'Would you like some wine? '

He stares at the bottle.
'Give it to me or I'll kill you! '
She falters.

He plunges a knife into her chest.
'Oh, Jesus, ' she cries,
slipping to the footpath.

He sits her on a bus stop seat
smoothing her dress, and putting
on a shoe that had fallen off.

The crowd hurries on to its destination
as a single shadow stands, bottle
in hand, silently sobbing.