SUNDAY IN MY BACK YARD A point A mark A wail of pain Coming from over three or four fences away I sit in my back yard Guilt sits beside me I don’t know what is being played out I can guess I can play out in my mind a multitude of possibilities Screaming Frustrated screaming into pleading Echo trapped wrists in a woman’s voice I look away from the direction the cries are coming from I feel uncomfortable sitting alone my back yard The cries continue to float to me from beyond my back fence I go and put on music so I can stop thinking about what might be happening The cries, the screaming, the pleading go on I feel uneasy as a cold breeze blows through to me As far as know the wailing woman has nothing to do with me It still worries me She sounds just like an animal that has its leg crushed in the jaws of a steel trap My audio discomfort guides me to the back steps I slide the back door closed My shame colours the setting sun’s departure.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 03:19:29 +0000
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