dark

The one true moth,
that wasn't
a victim
of the searing.

Night time,
window left
open
to the
vulnerable...

A lazy eye,
stamped
on
by the
persecuting,

black swans,
left behind...

A school
left
bloody
by the front
door
left open

The capturing
of tadpoles
in plastic bags
to our delight.

The toddler
with a rubber
hammer,
smashing
the ants....
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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Borg Avatar
August 23, 2026 at 10:05 PM
Ryan, you shed light on the dark that we pretend isn't there. The dark of your poems enlightens the truth.
Daniel Avatar
August 7, 2026 at 2:29 AM
Indeed a strange ending and a truly dark poem, Ryan...
Hayward Avatar
August 7, 2026 at 2:41 AM
sorry.
Hind Avatar
August 1, 2026 at 6:54 PM
you may have experience with the dark, but I sense you're angry- that ending is very raw,
Hayward Avatar
August 2, 2026 at 5:06 AM
Thanks Paige for your comment here and on my other poetry. Actually, I did as a kid, used to take to the ants with a rubber hammer. I literally would clear out an entire nest. In my mind, I was repeating the stories of world war 2 my grandfather used to tell me.....
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