An empty frame hurled against the barren wall
        (its contents stowed safely in the trash)
shatters, sending shards deep into the faded carpet.

A victim of the circumstance, the dog
limps across the kitchen floor,
trailing blood from it’s paw in small puddles
on the bright linoleum tile.

Red blood runs thick, runs fast –
and it occurs to me that, of all the pain
tears should run red, too.