shadows dance on the moon-drenched trees
spades clink flinty sparks
silhouettes sweat and curse
and laugh hollowly in the presence


of the grinning obscenity
none dares acknowledge for fear
a sudden twitch or spasmodic jerk
will dissolve the scant resolve each has
to bury this terrible thing they've done
and will on the morrow speak not
will with downcast eyes walk
and wonder who it was they were
this night and how it was
they could have done this
to one with whom they had
this day worked and tonight partied
and last fall deer hunted


an odor lifts as from a sewer
cleaves


no one sees the pale horse
walking soundlessly up the incline
stands for a moment on the rise
disappears


By Rod (AMPAW@aol.com)

 



 



Watch these pages for more poems by Rod.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.


The Candlestick Holders

The Stained Glass Window

Haiku

A Cyberspace Halloween

Looking Forward

To The Blue Ridge

Crop Circles

Pumpkin Patch



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