PRYING EYES

Who do you think the man is?
Did she kill herself or was she murdered?
Do you ever dream of your own death?

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The width of his shoulders
Blocked out the sun
I had lost my head
Somewhere in the blades
Of wheat or dead grass
Where my breath had followed
Several different breezes
And my ancestry had flowed
Back into the ground
Feeding the earth
The width of his shoulders
Blocked out the sun
And he mourned in silence
Looking down with thin lips
And eyes prying at my skin
My shirt sat crumpled
As red fire-ants
Marched in its folds
And distant thunder called
Before his cell phone
Ended my only funeral

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3 thoughts on “PRYING EYES

      1. He killed me off, and then maintained that I wasn’t dead, REMARRIED (ostensibly so that he could afford to come and find me) PAH!

        And BAH to your husband maybe killing you off!

        (that said, I’ve dream-cheated on Husby a few times…hee hee. Oops!)

        Like

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