A chartreuse glow in a disused store,
crystalline shards of torchlight
caught on dust motes make
cubist ghosts; silent witnesses
filter the remnants of a scene.
He was tied to a chair,
two men blew smoke rings
as a flyspecked light bulb
swayed to the rumba strains
of a thirsty wind, he hoped
he’d have the courage to evade
the questions, the inevitable
probing of his marrow,
palpating a point of penetration,
offering salvation through betrayal …
A Mesphisto bargain, tell us all,
and we shall set you free,
tell us all, knowledge shall be yours,
tell us all, we shan’t harm you…
whispers in his ears
and then the blindfold
and a single shot.
He slumped, thudding
to the concrete floor,
the chartreuse glow
gleamed redly
spreading in a slick.