one of the suspects was a woman
if hell smells like sulpher, then
hate tastes of darkest nights.
terror creeps along like snail slime,
the touch of fear—a jelly fish sting.
pissez lâ-dessus, il m’a dit.
i sit transfixed watching death unfold
blood red tears seep into
sweetest pools of starlight.
does fear smell like gray smoke?
glass shards shatter hope,
slice through gentle hearts.
warmth streams down my legs
while bodies still like prone
in blue-green puddles
and there–an orphaned 6-month old.
Please join me at dVerse Meeting the Bar where I am hosting a prompt on synesthesia. The doors to the Poetry Pub open at 3:00 PM EST. I’d planned on writing a nature-based poem but at the moment, this is more reflective on reality–sadly–a bit surreal like the news.
I will visit you as soon as possible, but I have been having a lot of Internet issues, so I ask for your patience.