Living Midair    poems by Karen June Olson April 2019

Jagged Tattoo

She lay in the dark
atop sheets sweetened
by afternoon sun,
her only cover a warm breeze.
She recalled crickets and tree frogs caught
up in their work, as she floated
by the edge of a dream—
consumed, until her dog growled
at the foot of the bed.

was half way inside the room,
a hand, a leg—
her scream burned corners
in cells, her words
were fire. She coiled into a corner
drew a knife and waited.

Police were long to arrive,
quick to wrap;
a pretty girl, alone like that,
house by the tracks,
could have been a loner,
some passerby,
a nobody,
a purely random act.
Nothing’s missing,
is it, ma’am?

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