Aphrodite Returned

 

Aphrodite returned from her manicure.

 The nail woman took her time with the soft red paint.

Please hurry,

she fidgeted smearing her porcelain fingers red.

Artemis had driven by,

smirking in her green jeep.

The face read vengeful danger.

 

Aphrodite returned from her manicure.

Her hair was tousled from a fast ride by convertible.

Why am I rushing? she thought,

speeding on a beach highway.

Her red-stained fingers gripped the steering wheel.

 

Aphrodite returned from her manicure.

Her legs walked shaky and quick from the car to their villa.

The one she shared with Adonis.

Her home was empty,

silent except for the breeze tap dancing in the chimes.

The back door swung open,

motioning toward their hammock.

 

Aphrodite returned from her manicure.

She found Adonis dead in his hammock.

His Field and Stream; his Ray Bans tossed to the grass,

and flecked in blood.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at his ruined marble chest.

Aphrodite called the cops,

winding her ruby fingers in Adonis’ cold locks.

 

Aphrodite returned from her manicure.

The cops took in the scene, and assessed in private.

The cougar killed him.

I saw her bloody fingers.

She had all the money.

 And then came the questions:

Why are your fingers red?

 Is it your lover’s blood?

 

I just returned home from my manicure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

This is very good story. I like the description from her manicure to finding the body. Ending was very good. You can tell a story. A excellent poem.
Coyote