Half Past Five Poem by Cj Heck

There’s a sewer drain
on Peck's Corner in town,
and at half past five
the streetlamp flickers on
at dusk and near where
gentlemen routinely take a leak
after leaving the Raven Pub.

They’ve been doing it
for years, No one
bothers to notice.
Of course, the smell of piss
assaults the nostrils,
which in turn, inform the brain
but only the vermin care
... and there were plenty
of them near the sewer drain
on Peck's Corner.

I saw the body there
at half past five on Monday.
The clock in the tower
told me it was so,
and when I called,
that’s what I told the authorities.

His head was in his lap
the legs askew
and bent at impossible angles,
the arms down,
elbows facing out,
hands on top of the head,
in his lap,
just above the flaming red hair
and he was sitting in a pool
of his own blood.

His mouth was frozen
in a scream no one will hear,
but the eyes, the eyes.
I will never forget the eyes.
The vermin had eaten his eyes.

Will anyone ever know
the horror they saw
just before half past five...