Death Bed Bride

One Pearl

Blood smeared linen thrown

quickly into corner of room

where boxes filled with newspapers

rant half truths of

long gone editors;

conceal broken watch

that stares at open window,

hands frozen in time

point northeast toward

worn mattress with

tuft buttons missing.

Tick clothe drenched

in sweat and blood

hold shape memory.

Room shaded in twilight

breathes wedding march

"The bride, here she comes,"

it heaves.

Hair matted

where tendrils blew free

nestles in floor board.

Tip of red fingernail tethers

on grate of register vent.

Small pearl earring

rests near wooden chair leg.

Watch ticks memory song

silently staring at open window;

hands frozen in time

point northeast toward worn mattress

with tuft buttons missing.



Ravings of a Black Widow

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