Trigger Finger- Christine Ray

 

soft hand

in velvet glove

holding

still smoking gun

that triggered me

did not mean harm

and yet . . .

the hole

in my gut

leaks blood

dark crimson

that spreads

like spilled ink

it was a clean shot

through and through

that caught me unaware

crushed bone and

memory

create the outline

of my body

on hard cement floor

ignore the scene

of the crime

I am deft

at resurrecting

mopping

the mess

 

© 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved