by John Grey
|
What eyes...
the blood already
filling them,
iris floating in
a scarlet pool.
My mind
and that other mind
of mine
had not yet coalesced
and she already glowed
with anticipation.
I stared.
She stared back.
No longer lovers
but a car crash
in slow motion
Her eyes weren’t big enough
to hold that blood.
My brain had trouble
aligning me with myself
She flooded the room
crimson.
I splashed about,
confused.
She looked me deep
in the face
where I could have been.
I grabbed at her body,
bloodless by this. |
John Grey
is an Australian born poet, works as financial systems analyst. Recently
published in Bryant Poetry Review, Tribeca Poetry Review and the horror
anthology, “What Fears Become” with work upcoming in Potomac Review, Hurricane
Review and Osiris. John’s Poem, Blood
Types, appears in the January 2013 issue of HelloHorror.
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