For Halloween

Have you ever been kidnapped by a poet?   I would like to kidnap YOU for a few minutes ... I'll scare the warm and fuzzies right out of you ...
~Hugs, CJ

Half Past Five

by CJ Heck

There’s a sewer drain
in town
on Peck's Corner,
and at half past five,
the street lamp
flickers on at dusk,
near where gentlemen
routinely take a leak
after leaving
the Raven's Wing Pub.
They’ve been doing it
for years, and
no one seems to notice,
except for the smell
of piss that assaults
the nostrils,
which in turn
informs the brain,
but only the vermin care
and there were
plenty of them
near the sewer drain
in town
on Peck's Corner.
I saw the body there
as I walked by
at half past five
on Monday.
The clock in the tower
told me it was so,
and when I called,
that’s what I told
the authorities.
His head
was in his lap,
the legs askew and bent
at impossible angles.
The arms hung down
with elbows facing out,
hands on top
of the head,
the head that was
in his lap
just above
the flaming red hair.
He was sitting
in a pool of
his own blood.
His mouth was frozen
in a scream that
no one will ever hear,
but the eyes,
the eyes,
I will never forget
the eyes.
The vermin had eaten
both eyes.
Will anyone ever know
the horror they saw,
on Peck's Corner
just before
half past five ...


A poem should not necessarily mean anything ... it should just simply, BE.