POEM: Serial Killer in the Laundromat

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“Serial Killer in the Laundromat”

 

As he walks in the open door

I’m acutely conscious of

 

how alone I am

 

how athletic he looks

–the man that holds

the plastic garbage bag

big enough to hide a body,

                            thick enough to snuff my life

when slipped over my head,

                         the soft layered plastic

becomes a black sucking “O”

as I struggle to breathe.

 

How easily he pins me,

 

holds me down until my fight is gone,

 

my light snuffed, then stuffed

inside a plastic shroud

he dumps me

           so much garbage

                            in the bin

–or perhaps he takes

(what’s left of) me to a secluded

                                 copse of trees,

my remains remain hidden,

whereabouts unknown.

 

If I’d chosen the folding table closer

to the door instead of the dryers,

my escape would not be cut off.

 

I keep my key handy by my side,

                             to thrust

into the eye of my attacker. From the edge

of my vision, I see him stop,

turn

      in my direction,

                    and begin

 

pulling clothes from the dryer

into the enormous shapeless sack.

I continue folding,

pretend not to notice him

until he leaves when I

breathe again

 

until next time

my clothes need washing:

I flash again on every killer,

every monster, every unsolved mystery,

and every abduction discovered

as I once more enter the

deserted laundromat.

 

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POEM: Atheology

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“Atheology”

 

Atheist creation

the eternity of a starry night

gazing into millennia past, remembering we are all

composed of stardust

 

Atheist god

the voice that whispers inspiration in the darkness

in the soft quiet of an afternoon, before the rainstorm

when electricity is in the air and all dreams seem possible

in the zone of contemplation, in the act of creation

of life and art and the crafting of something that before

only lived in the heart and mind

 

Atheist afterlife

the soft whisper of friends remembering the past and

dreaming of the future, returned to dust and earth, our matter

neither created nor destroyed, merely transformed

to continue the cycle of life, we never cease, we exist in each eternal moment

 

Atheist heaven

the rapture of creation and transformation, of smiles and laughter,

birthdays spent with friends, the whispered confidences of a lover,

the soft breath of a newborn, and the quiet realization

 

following our bliss, we create paradise.

 

 

 

 

 

*Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed the poem.

*image courtesy of http://publicdomainpictures.net/