send
pictures of flowers,
or the cake
they just baked.
their dog or cat.
snapshots of a child,
or a friend,
a lake, a stream,
a wooded
trail,
a beaten path.
but not her, she
sends me
a picture of
a fresh wound on
her thumb
where a knife cut
into the skin
drawing blood
in crimson puddles
upon a white
napkin.
and this, this photo
tells me almost all
i need to know
about her, nearly
everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment