Synaesthesia Magazine Cities - Page 98

They found her body, pregnant,

plastered inside the basement wall.

Pulver from the job lay witness

inside cracks lining the brick floor.

Bloodstains bloomed as flowers

around the porcelain sink drain;

his knife washed clean of sins.

But screams remain undissolved

as requiem in this altar. No denial

of murder.

She must have been tired

trudging desert with its indifference,

the sand and sagebrush unrelenting,

then rafting through river’s rage at night,

the border beckoning across the Rio Grande,

her bridge to freedom. Stopped

in El Paso to rest. She hid

inside a Texas barn on her way

to a new life. He found her,

her access through cut barbed wire,

followed the telling trail from the fence

to the hayloft.

And coyotes howled into night.

And the Cactus Always Bloom Despite the Thorns