already hot
morning heat on my back
loud music
© Rachel Green July 2021
Red Handed
did you ever wonder
why I didn't read your letters,
and sent the back en-masse
unopened, unread?
I guess you got the message
when you started writing on the envelopes
red ink; red crayon; red paint:
accusing me of everything
from patricide to killing the children
you could never have with me.
The postman must have thought
I was a child molestor,
fresh out of prison when in reality
my hands were red
from my own blood.
© Rachel Green July 2021
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