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

pointer...

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©