The Door Still Lets in Hallway
The last thing you did was slam the door so hard
it bounced back open
and I saw that splatter of blood
on the wall from the Friday murder—resembling
a Munch sky,
or the cod’s mouth as it lay in the bucket
gasping for ocean, unable to comprehend
the difference between one side of a split second and the other.
3 comments:
Norway left its glum mark ...
the last line is a killer ...too?
Very strong visual; effective poem indeed.
Well Aisha, I have done enough fishing not to worry about 'the catch', though, when I was looking for images in red, I did think of my most recent experiences. I like your pun on 'killer' :).
Paula, thank you. Doors and time are well-worn themes of mine, so it is difficult to be original with them at times. Always good to hear I've succeeded.
Helm.
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