Across the Driveway


By K. Andrew Turner

This cool breeze scrapes a crisp leaf
across the bricked driveway
in silver moonlight.
Key in hand I pause
half-way up the front porch
and think of bones crunching.
Inside I will be safe from Death.

Heart thumps.
Synapses fire.

Logically, Death has come for another:
the frail man
I call my grandfather;
I no longer worry.
If I strain, the buzz of machines
leak through the door.

My heart pounds
against its prison.

How stray sounds
lead the mind down paths
dark and twisted
full or misshapen shadows.

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: