Plasma stains
beneath family portraits
Dust collects
on top of fingerprints
Bit’s of hair, fingernails
jammed in braided rugs
Just knowing
creates a foul stench
Oh, the spatter
that splattered when
Buckshot went off!
It’s been 8 years ago today
Claimed crazy residing
were once he had killed
And he always
plans to stay
Neighborhood strays
never sow to his lawn
They scurry by
whimpering in fear
For a body was missing
the law never saw,
Not even
the protruding ear
Grocers delivering food
strewed cross the yard
And the mailman
hasn’t stopped by in ages
It is said “who gets too close
to what rests inside,
Will be next posted
on the front pages