My anger pours out of every stitch as I slam my wine glass on the table.
No amount of cursing will scratch the itch firing through my bugged cables.
The wiring’s off, throw out the plans and gather around this failed attempt.
Two people have escaped our rightful anger, nobody else can be exempt.
The huntress puts stainless steel blades in her belt, her caution is paper thin.
The green-eyed bitch of the rural streets perfectly applies her own skin.
I watch in terror as my own image disappears and reappears in reflections.
We’re ready to comb the town and kill everyone daring to walk our direction.
I shrug and rest my palm on the cold gun besides the shattered wine glass.
Can’t hide it as more and more questions near me through the grass.
The bottle’s done and my team of revolting human waste looks right at me.
They know as well as I do – we must kill the witness to finally be happy.
What comes next is pre-written: we slash each other’s throats for hours
Until only one claims this shabby town the three of us have called ours.
As the night swallows our bodies within its charcoal veils, my back straightens.
The one who fled escaped painless grave, but she can’t escape the Satan.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 