Found Poem No 1
Found Poem No 1
by Ben Macnair
The Flapping of wings at night,
A lonesome bell tolling,
The Wind through an open window,
The Taste of Blood,
The Full Moon,
Leafless Trees,
Bodies Hanging in the Air
The Sound of Water Dripping into a full bath-tub,
A Knife Sharpening,
The Sting of a flesh cut
The moment you realise you are being watched.
An ominous picture creeping in from the edges with implicating details that never spell it out but tell it all. Vaguely reminiscent. Have I read this before?
Okay. This is the one meant for today. Again, entering from the edges but more graphically, zeroing in on the reader as the culprit. Yeah, something in us at least could be guilty.