How He Went Out Poem by Michael Eugene Cantrall

Sweet, the silence when they opened the door.
No ringtones he heard, as he was in flight.
Something was there that switched off the on light.
A wafting of foul warned something hides more,
than skids on the floor from shoes that he wore,
or the stainless pinch resisting the fight,
or the crimson'd toolbox standing upright,
or the shattered casement on the upper floor,
or things that fled when they opened the door.
Something was there, and it watched out of sight.
The things that did leave knew things were not right.
Something was there, and it's not anymore.
A legion of questions still hides from the light.
May answers arrive in dreams in the night.