Nothing missing, nothing disturbed

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

An expensive watch keeps
perfect time on the skeletonized
wrist resting above ground.
Already wild flowers bloom.
The arm of the final victim
to enter this particular pit.
Buried quickly just before
the end. The latecomer.
Squeezed in as an afterthought
before death's shovel filled in.

The refugee returns, incredulous
to find her home intact. Nothing
missing, nothing disturbed.
Still the remnants of her brother's
birthday celebration. Unwashed
plates, the packaging for the watch
bought for him by their parents.
The washing, her brother's
white shirts, now bone dry.


Bernadette Higgins
Beloit Poetry Journal
Volume 54, Number 1
Fall 2003