Inner Dialogue

I watched him die in there.

I watched through splintered fissures in the
shattered wooden veneer where
motes of blanched sunlight danced
through holes made by brimming hot steel,
and wholistic resolve.

I could tell he was trying to
say something, because he was wiggling
unusually, and reaching for his pocket…

The last few gasps were
particularly fun for
me. He heaved a lot

© Christopher Rupley 2016

(A Haibun is a short prose poem followed by a Haiku).

 

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