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Shots Fired
The door exploded.
When she slammed it,
detonations riddled his body,
shock and anger
galloped over his mind
both riding the same horse.
Molten emotions dripped in the air,
a seethe like lava, a floe that clung
even as she ran down the long staircase,
heels ticking off
all the wrongs of his tongue.
They ate the apple, but the worm
in the fruit ate her.
It was forbidden
by the birds in the sky.
She begged to be liked
from the lip of her grave.
No one will shoot her for being
vulnerable.
They will kill him for loving her,
for he knew now
how a door explodes,
how it speaks
of the hand that slams it,
and the birds of the sky
will not forgive her.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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