subtext

there should have been flies

but there were none—her mouth 

open in perpetual shock

even now sixteen years later

I can hear her whispered

tongue form words from guilt

to be inlaid on my skin like mahogany 

and rosewood carpentry designs 

embedded across her casket’s closed lid

my life has become my response 

exhausted with little left to say

I wait, finally silent, unvoiced

I should have been surprised

how even the flies stopped 

(August 17, 2024)