Picture

Hawk on the grass last night,
and at hangover daybreak

all that’s left is a bloody wing
to signal the remnants of us.

I’ve hotel walls instead of you,
plus a ghostly farmhouse picture.

Its black windows spell out fear:
a spectral figure haunts an entrance.

In an adjoining room, this early,
someone is torturing a cello.

I take a photo of the picture, then
the room fills up with emptiness.

I press delete, no provocation,
there’s a plane to catch tomorrow.

John Short now lives in Liverpool, England, after many years in southern Europe. He’s a member of the Liver Bards poetry group and reads at venues around Liverpool and beyond. Widely published in the UK, Spain, France, Ireland and the USA, he’s appeared most recently in The Blue Nib, Prole, Dream Catcher Magazine and StepAway Magazine, which nominated him for a Pushcart Prize in 2018.

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