PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I rocked back in the yellow chair and
watched you pick out the knife
We can bury him in the creek at
the back of the house you said

I decided,
since I can't turn you in,
I'd help you kill this man
He doesn't love you
And I love you more then he could
So I go to the creek and dig a hole
it's not as difficult as they say,
murder I mean
even when its blood, you can do it
especially when he doesnt see it coming
the knife goes in clean, between the ribs
you laugh and cry at the same time
like a mad man really
and I do think you are mad
I just owe you so much I cannot stop you
He is panting in the corner of the kitchen
like a dog
He looks at me and in his eyes I think he understands
His insides are pooling on the tiled floor,
but he finally dies
and you are hysterical
So I drag him through the rooms to the porch
I tell you to stay here
I put his dead weight in the wheel barrow
and push him through the field down to his grave
It takes me an hour to shovel him in
but I do it for you
because I owe you that much
You are waiting for me in the yard,
you have a fire burning
and a pint of whiskey in your hand
Its done, I say
You nodd and throw in another log
and we sit there, like cowboys,
watching the moon turn into sunrise