Crime and Poetry

The afternoon sun now clears the trees and comes through the window to where you are with your book, deciphering the clues to reveal who committed the crime. Imbedded in the surrounds are the rituals that connect us to life and to each other, the daily observances notched in time. If it were not for these affirmations of love, we would be lost somewhere within ourselves, me in the endless passageways of a poem without windows and doors, you in the forensics of a crime scene, communicating with each other through a bullet or punch hole we've left in our dreams.