"Two wrongs may not make a right but a thousand wrongs make a writer.”

Monday, June 12, 2023

Snapshots

The boy killed himself with a crossbow.
The family had removed all the guns from the house
But not that.

Red the lidded eye, the smoke-filled sky
the robin flailing under the bird netting
trapped for the red of a ripened berry.

At a gas station a man digs through the garbage can
with his bare hands. Windfall swirls over the broken asphalt.
His coat flaps in the wind.







 

7 comments:

Rajani Rehana said...

Please read my post

Anthony Duce said...

Enjoyed. Not so isolated, isolated, view.

Jemi Fraser said...

So much sadness around us - some much work humanity has to do!
I love the way your words flow

Yvonne Osborne said...

Rajani,
Thank you.

Anthony,
Thanks!

Jemi,
Boy, isn't that the truth? I try not to be a pessimist but sometimes it's hard to find that silver lining. Thank you so much!!

Helen said...

Yvonne, this is deep, disturbing, beautifully composed. One fine piece of poetry.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Helen
You just made my evening. Thanks!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

It captures desperation so perfectly. So many instances of suffering everywhere, on every level. You have written it in a way that speaks to the heart of compassion.