A sunny morning, crossing the street,
not expecting to see.
Oh goodness! Oh my!
This can’t be.
A young woman,
the fresh age of twenty two,
lay crumpled on the ground,
in a tangle or two.
Her hair so dark,
her lips so red,
her skin so pale,
you’d swear she was dead!
As I ventured near I let out a gasp.
In shock I let out a sharp cry.
I realized what had happened
and asked myself why.
I ran with great speed.
I said my goodbye.
I ran to that telephone booth,
with my head to the sky.
I picked up that phone.
I dialled that number.
I made up a lie,
so they wouldn’t wonder.
When the police arrived
I watched with a shiver.
I won’t let them know it was I who called,
I thought with a quiver.
The coroner came in and his analysis was final.
He reported, “Cut ear to ear
and severed down the middle.”
I couldn’t believe what I was to hear.
I looked at the girl, this lost flower.
I looked for a while.
It was true. It was all true,
her face was now an everlasting red smile.
Tears rolled down for the dahlia of black.
I cursed the savage fiend that did this to eternal damnation.
Then I turned to remove myself,
from this saddening desperation. |
Submission Name: Lost Flower [poem about the black dahlia murder]
