His Prize (Pt.2) Poem by Rebecca Springsteen
His Prize (Pt.2)
He looked over the photos of her ancestors,
while singing one of the songs,
he sang to the others. Have
he had enough? He already made a big crater.
Hunting them down one by one, halves
that's what he liked to do. Her lungs
where still moving like magic.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: murder
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7/23/2025 2:19:44 AM # 1.0.0
