Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Scene of the Crime

Scene of the Crime

I am bleeding
dank, putrid carnage
the rich color of soil
that I have nurtured

I imagined returning to this place
erasing my fingerprints
setting the building on fire
witnessing the devastation 
from afar
as if I was the criminal

There are signs everywhere
and this journey is no different
The highway sign
an unexpected reminder

Throbbing warmth 
pooling suddenly
I shove both hands between my thighs
trying to tell you
Pull over to the side of the road
but instead, 
voice lost
I hold my breath
waiting for the pain to recede

I can smell them...
rotten, burning flesh
the stench of shame

Touching thumb to pinkie finger
ring finger
middle finger

I am here
I am here
I am here

I am not the criminal

I look into your eyes
not asking you to turn away
no longer a child reeling with confusion
I am here

I am not the criminal

Angela Minard 2015©