The News
The day ends,
A flower bends.
"Who is it?" she asks.
"No, please don't sit!
"You bear bad news.
"You must be cold,
"Your face is blue.
"Say what you must...
"You have already denied my trust."
"Your son is dead,
"He has been shot in the head."
"I must now sit and cry,
"He didn't deserve to die.
"Who did it?
"What was his reason?
"Was he simply rebelling?
"Or is it hunting season?"
"Your son killed himself,
"Even in all his wealth."
She couldn't believe it,
Or did she even care?
Why did he do it?
Because she wasn't there.
1993
Next Poem: Runaway
