After the Murder…


slices of stale bread,
morose, wrinkled potatoes
defining dejection,
dust forms serene film
of visage of today,

the newspaper lies
still rolled but unread
and its news already obsolete~
molding cabbage
sneers its breath a stench
knocking on
indifferently shut windows.

within a bubble
this room remains oblivious
to the racing tomorrows
mutating into yesterdays,
a myopic calendar
peers at peeling wallpaper
to discern the accuracy
of its outdated predictions

while a snobbish wall clock
ticks with aplomb
monitoring passing seconds
the only change
echoing in this cobwebby quietude
as curtains thirst
for gulps of fresh breeze.

wrinkled, rumpled
the bed sheet peppered in dust
grimaces at ceiling fan
hanging redundant overhead,
photo-frames are cages
with memories stagnant within
~ orphaned and forgotten.

cushions wear crinkles
the mirror frowns in grime,
stains of dried crimson
on the mute floor
reflect a saga of horror
yet awaiting interpretation
in corridors of legal procedure…


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