cold air
knives
the red car drives...
snow speckles laughing
as the windshield wipers bow
he sings and defends her
from the wicked, wicked
world
her smile, suddenly
grows weak.
he goes to work
wrenching her
with questions
he'll wish he never
asked
pulls from her throat
a black ribbon of secrets
he will probably
hang himself
with.
Saturday, February 11, 2012