Un Bel Di
Dark brier grow thick in Cleveland,
thorny tendrils thrive.
Clapperboard homes slack and linger,
neglected yards grow thin grey bones.
A vaporous wave passed over Lake Erie.
None noticed the lightless seeds in the sunlight,
but little girls went missing.
Whole neighborhoods searched other places
no one thought the monster hid among them.
Detective Puccini grinds his jaw behind the wheel
of an old Cadillac.
Red cracked leather creaks as he reaches
for a brown-bagged vodka bottle.
He knows the girls are near;
at night as he sleeps, he hears them,
they cry for help under their breath
least their captor overhear.
Today Puccini takes out
a sledgehammer from the trunk of his car
he's intends to tear down any dark-eyed house
until one fine day
he hears the girls again.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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