Poem | Tanushka
A woman murdered in town and two days later
I'm writing these words in some local newspaper
between headlines where no big things occur.
The woman's dead, in heaven,
no one gives a crap about her.
It's so dark, I can't see
and over my shoulder, a ghost's talking to me.
says, "No, mi amor, don't look behind.
there's nothing you’ll ever find.
Just write the words that come to your heart
I'll watch over your shoulder as you do art.
But why does the lotus only grow in mud?
All beauty rises from something bitter and broken?
So it was only fair to search for nirvana
in the ugliest words ever spoken.
A little girl, assaulted and killed,
the vessel of sins, pretty damn filled.
Who'll the next one be,
to be thrown under the bus?
What happened to this place, what's wrong with us?
And I think I saw her after a week,
an echo of laughter, playing hide-and-seek
—her twinkling eyes, buck-toothed grin;
What impurity touched her skin?
What's happened to the innocence, why those scars?
Is the guilty monster thrown behind bars?
A retired couple, the soul of a laugh—
still in love, each other's pretty half,
looted on a highway for the diamond necklace she wore.
He bought it for her when they were twenty-four.
And badly injured, he died saving her
His face in her sleep then turned blur.
She's trying to hold on the memory of them together,
determined and ready to battle forever,
trying to hold on to the last kiss
begging the world for f——– justice.
But the case was closed, nothing came out of it,
and every such file was forgotten with time,
except that the weekly newspaper recorded it,
and the next day I found poetry in the news of crime.