The Coup de Grace

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
For my Creative Writing class, we went through unit on poetry. Not my cup of tea, but I wrote three poems for the assignment, and I decided to share them here. Again, definitely not my best writing.

Submitted: January 15, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 15, 2015



I paint the concrete red,

Brush of steel and wood and lead,

Drop it to the ground, the tool that claims the dead

Scarlet river running through the cracks in the garage,

The fucker spread like jam on toast,

A blood and bone collage.

I deliver to the deserving.

Click click burn,

a smokey breath,

From the raging fire now extinguished.

The blood machine still turns,

Walk outside and feel the snowflakes burn.

I go home.

The gritty snow says my name as I crush it,

Courting me with guilt,

Satisfaction warms me, vengeance as a quilt

Though the scabs are cold

I can finally rest now that justice is served,

In bed lying on my back,

Heart blood and snow

A matching shade of black.

© Copyright 2017 Jericho Short. All rights reserved.

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