the scatter of you

i hear the sound of your voice
as i stir the tomato soup
on low heat,
the chill hitting against
the window,
almost like calling
my name,

so low and said
i turn around
and only shadows linger
there from lights and fixtures,
where your face
hangs in wooden frame
above the mantle.

the mangled car frame,
i want to capture your eyes,
but i'm afraid to look
and see you there again,
broken and bleeding
behind the wayward
steering wheel,
shards of glass spread
over the seats and street
twisted metal
around the bones
of a tree

the snow outside
has buried me in,
i know it will melt
but for now
the cold of her
is where i disappear


laid there in
the field,
her breast and
nipples exposed
being licked
by dogs,

they found her
two weeks too late
even to preserve
her body,

raped and shoveled
off the back of a truck,
took her at gunpoint
in a shopping mall,
how she went with them
like sheep to the slaughter,
without foul play
without foreplay,
she opened her legs

and let them have
their way,
why didnt she fight?
why didnt she scream?
txt a message from
her phone
to the ouside world
that was already
dead inside her.

Anthony Liccione lives in Texas with his two children and serves in the Army. His poems have appeared in several print and on-line journals, including Fashion for Collapse, Drunken Absurdity, Curbstone Collective, Gutter Eloquence Magazine, Squawk Back and Chantarelle's Notebook. He is also involved with the upcoming album 'Telling Tales' which will portray his poem in audible format, which is slated to be released mid 2011 through hennensobserver.com His lastest book (Wolf Down) is forthcoming from Corrupt Press.

2004-2012 Underground Voices