salt dried eyes crusty blink slow
morse code batted between eye lids
down cheek a drop of water carves a path
drops off the chin to free fall

stop crying
that’s all he said at the sight of her bent double on the couch the earth opening below her
stop crying please
and she did

eyes white and wet with red tendrils snaking through
why she asked after chasing down her breath
and he looked out the window and saw himself reflected
why she asked standing above him becoming a mile tall

a knock at the door opened to find a man with a bible
invited in to preach about love
his words like buckshot raw
the bible man torn apart

by the woman with tears on her shirt
and the man who lived in the window
the bible man torn apart for his buckshot lies
about love

Ryan Evans is a writer from Seattle, Washington and has been published in small literary journals around the United States. Check out more of his work here.