Snuffing the Dregs

When she walks into their house

on bright sunlit afternoons,

the blinding burns.

Cheap plastic ornaments affront,

but she swallows the lion’s gaze.

When his selfish words

thieve in from the grave

gleaning sundry farewells,

her quiet thoughts quake

those plastered walls

better than his trigger

finger ever could.

________________________

Jennifer Hollie Bowles