Victimless Crime?

The worst thing has happened of all our fears
Our little one, our child, has disappeared.
She was safe and secure, and tucked away,
home from middle school one September day,
alone–yet she truly wished to belong,
but now she’s gone, what could have gone so wrong?
She knows don’t open the door to strangers
and can use her cell phone if in danger.
Has she found someone seeking to groom her,
An older “friend” to whom she can defer,
or at fourteen, perhaps budding romance–
a Cinderella, once a lifetime chance?
We’ve called the cops, so perhaps in due time,
they might solve a so-called “victimless crime”.

hour 5: a morning full of thanks

There’s a hummingbird in the flowers and a grasshopper on the back of the pool deck chair
I’ve tried to circumvent my feelings by breathing precisely when in reality, it all belongs to the Divine
Why, oh why, do I hide?a grasshopper on the back of the pool deck chair in the writer's backyard
There’s a happy dog on the couch with a toy in its mouth
and I’m eating a yogurt, hiding less
Step-mother starts to clean while I write and I’m
remembering

2023 #5 Who? What? When? Where? Why?

Short?
Maybe.
Brown hair, probably.
Eyes, green likely.

Clothing?
Most definitely.
Shoes black,
might be gray.

Someone familiar?
Possibly.

Close friend?
Almost certainly.

Something dangerous?
Could have been.

Bad, or illegal?
Absolutely not.

Anyone hurt?
Surely yes.

Dead?
Literally or metaphorically?

Literally?
No.

Today?
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

All the time?
Not all, but some.

At home?
Often.

Outside?
Frequently.

Anywhere else?
Within.

Motive?
Unsure.

Excuses?
None that come to mind.

What a mystery.

Hour 5; Whodunit

The verdict was clear, “Hang until death”
Every face lit up with vengeance,” “This heartless witch deserves death!”
But I knew she was the kindest, the noblest
There was no proof except for my lingering belief in her
They led her away, she did not even flinch
But she turned back just once, and gave me such a smile
That left me in no doubt that she knew
“She knows, she knows,”
I muttered to myself; she knew all along
I wondered why then did she walk to her death, with her eyes open
“Because, I love you with my eyes closed!”
The wind carried her gentle voice to me…

What Does it Mean

“What Does It Mean”

 

life’s sweet mystery

has me wondering

these shapes we see

in the clouds

billowing by

what does it mean

the synchronic numerology

butterfly in a bush

birds fluttering, amongst the trees

the beauty of the present

life’s precious gift

leaves me pondering

the feather, upon the ground

lyrics, speaking to your soul

life’s lessons

has me judging

if my mind is sound

BAGGAGES (hour v)

The crowd gather at
the center of the city
Their means are stolen

There is a suspect
walking through the gaping crowd
Something is stolen

There is a suspect
guilty until Judges prove
innocent and clear

Bags of gold litter
street sides, baggages roll over
More stuff are stolen

Searchlights beam, more lights
The suspect is the lone thief
buying handshakes hard

It’s arresting time
Then the thief steals himself, and
baggages grow heads

*Inspired by the text prompt.

Prompt 5 – Mystery Poem

Prompt 6 – A mystery poem

 

Where was I?

 

I was running

my cold frosty breath

still in front of me,

bark breaking

leaves rustling

under fast feet,

my heart races too

I focus forward

never looking back,

the sweat running

as hard as I am

please God please,

complete darkness arrives,

then I open my eyes.

Wait. I’m in bed?

Hour Five: Sara’s Tears

Sara shed no tears

as she stepped around the body

slumped in the rolling chair

to pull the knife buried deep

out of the head

and rinse it in water so hot

it dropped

from her hands

before scrubbing vigorously

with a heavy-duty scrubbing sponge

before putting it in the dishwasher

along with the breakfast dishes

 

before she rolled the chair to the car

and drove it to the drop off

to push it over the cliff

and watch it burn

 

before she biked home

to bleach the blood from the floor

and scrub at the stains with a strong brush

and rinse with boiling water

and dry with old rags

before taking the rags

to the neighbors’ trash can

that would be picked up

at 7 am tomorrow

 

before she thanked God

the floor was white linoleum

and not tile with cracks

where – something –

might fall in

 

as she huddled on the sofa

holding her 10-year-old

who had learned long ago

to fear the fall of his own tears

who whispered, “Sorry, Mom.”

 

as they waited for the sunrise

before calling Missing Persons

Sara shed her tears

for him