If You See Something

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #571

Words:  scar, hear, flicks, felt, liquid, dirty, remember,
        mushrooms, amber, key, solid, admit

She had a scar.  Old
surgery, she said,
flicking her fingers,
shrugging it off.  Her  
amber earrings dangled 
in sunlight.
I admit that at 
the time, I believed

Remembered hearing
she was a private person.
Although two doors down,
I felt she desired
distance.  Key exchanges
would not happen.  Winter
blew in; block became
solid sheet of ice.

That's when everything 
mushroomed.  Heard
a scream, faint call
for help.  Several of
us hied to her house,
pushed the door open.
Liquid pooled at her side.
Blood-metallic scent.  
Before ambulance arrived,
we spied bruises on her
arms and legs.  In a shaky
voice, she apologized
for her dirty dishes 
in the sink.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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5 Responses to If You See Something

  1. Paula Light says:

    Excellent. Saying without saying…


  2. Sadje says:

    So well written.


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