The Murderer

 The job is done, the murder weapon stashed;

A beautiful young woman bashed and slashed.

The killer and his partners listen intently,

Moved to inaction by a simple song

A woman sings with soft intensity,

As if her passion could efface a wrong

Perpetrated with mountainous cruelty.

Will speechless bystanders be sufficient

To subdue the heartless secret agent?

The song is over, yet they hesitate.

Three observers, representing the State,

All alike, unblinkingly accuse us

Of the action's unconscionable causes.

There is much more for us to do than wait.

The Reversal of There

I rarely walk beyond that tree

That is home to birds —

And air — too close

To the undermined

Riverbank.

I’ve tried holding

The tree — hands uncertain—

Taking a step —only one —

A test of courage —

A test of foolishness.

Even at flood height 

The water invites —

And seems — at times —

To flow in reverse — back

Up between its banks —

I follow from here.