You won't ever see me cry again.

Packs of cars, blue striped, green striped,

outside your house, words on them

like Spokane City Police, Sheriff, K-9.

When I pull up, I’m shaking,

shaking and pale in the early morning, a

blue silk robe

over jeans. I see men with radios in their belts, talking,

serious. I see guns.

It is barely light as I step out

of the car, bare feet on cold concrete.

                    You, me.

                    In the basement.

                    You’re telling me about this guy, how he hates your guts.

                    You got promoted, he didn’t.

                    I run my hand over your shoulder. “It’s ok.

                    He’s just jealous.”

                    You say, “No, there’s something off about Bill.

                    I don’t want you to call me at work anymore.

                    I don’t want him to know about you.”

                    Why? I don’t understand, but

                    I say okay, leaning against your shirt.

I run for your front door.

“Hey! Ma’am! Are you involved? We need you

to stay back.”

A sheriff with a military mouth, grey shirt.

Two officers, setting up orange cones, caution tape,

look over.

I know they won’t let me see you,

I don’t get desperate.

“He’s my boyfriend,” I say, my mouth feels numb.

I want them to know.

The sheriff says something about being sorry,

something about protocol, I can’t come any closer. He guides me

back to my car by my shoulder.

“He’s my boyfriend,” I say again and again,

now tears are slipping down my face, into

the blue silk robe.

You don’t see me cry.

                    In the kitchen, making peanut butter ‘n’ jelly.

                    We had been laughing, but now you get quiet, you say,

                    “I’m getting kinda nervous about Bill.”

                    I lift one foot in a pirouette, holding

                    the jam jar.

                    “Tell him off,” I say; I put your sandwich together.

                    You don’t eat.

                    “No, Ellie,” you say, and tell me about

                    the gun rack, notes, Bill’s friends that follow you.

                    While you tell me,

                    I watch your sandwich. Your fear scares me.

                    But you don’t wanna tell the boss, don’t wanna

                    make things worse.

                    I say again, “It’s ok, I love you.” We hug.

                    I wonder, later, if I should tell someone.

                    I fall asleep first.

You won’t ever see me cry again.

By the time the sunrise turns the clouds

red like pain,

a body bag is loaded into a dark car.

I’ve cried so hard, the grass outside my car

is covered in vomit.

The sheriff stops by, opens the door. “We’ll call you. Do you need

someone to drive you home?”

My thin arms are shaking uncontrollably

and I say, “He’s my boyfriend.”

“He was a good-looking kid,” the sheriff says,

and I see that we both understand the tragedy

of a death with no meaning.

Reviews

[Elizabeth]

"By the time the sunrise turns the clouds
red like pain"
Great image.

Wow, this is a powerful narrative. Persephoneia recommended it to me (perhaps you know her?) You tell the story very well. My heart was actually beating faster as I read and was awaiting the outcome. Typically I read narratives such as this one with very mild interest, but you certainly captured my attention here in many ways. A great piece, I mean that :)

[The High Poet]

I don't really know what to say about this.... I loved it!

[BaByWrItEr216]

Wow wow wow.. I really enjoyed reading this.. You told this story very well...

[Albatross]

Wow, the emotion was intense. I love the way you constructed the time table, what had happened, and the consequences. It flowed well, was interesting, and was enjoyable to read, aside from the painful message.

Murder is so meaningless. It not only deprives a person of their life, but injures and destroys the lives of others... Such a sad story. Thank you for sharing:)

[Joy Lynn B.]

Wow this is very good.

[Elaine]

Wow while i was reading this I couldn't stop. It's like one of those movies that has you hanging on the edge of your seat with anticipation, you just want to know what happens next and it grabs ahold of you and won't let go. Very awesome job, i love it. Good story too.

[Sofia N]

Great Story, You are very talented, This kept me want to keep reading. Very interesting and very interesting plot :)

[Corvus]

Very tragic and depressing.

But, that makes for a good poem. It's beautifully written, and has a flow to it that I've seen few poems capture before. It was easy to follow and the dialogue was realistic. Very, very, well done.

[Charles]

This is, indeed, a wonderful effort on your part. The theme is compelling and flows smoothly from stanza to stanza. The offset stanzas work quite well to separate the past and present. The vernacular - things like 'wanna' - help set the scene and create a personal touch for the whole poem. There are not a lot of flowery descriptions or metaphors, but that is exactly what this poem needs - a stark setting to tell the tale. Very nicely done.

[Gomer LePoet]

A very compelling story here. Sounds like an episode of CSI. good job

[Ecros Lathes]

This is a good poem it is really good. :)