[symetrik]

There Are Seasons In A Phone Call

He springs to his feet,
seems to not've just been woken from his sleep.
Receiver to the ear, mouth to the mouth-piece.
Disbelief sneaks and he lacks speech.
Tact-free cops can't keep peace… let alone tell him that his daughter's dead.
Mindset sealed, resets to post-kill watershed,
gives himself the go-ahead,
and hangs up.

"Summer" on his tongue-tip.
The child of his first wife… the kid he fell in love with.
He's tough shit, flashback to pre-kill,
Doesn't cry when his kids die or prescribe to any refills.
"be still" hits like a kiss to the lips with a clenched fist.
Tensed up muscles? Check. His own sweat? Drenched in.

The best six years of his life, gone.
Autumn colours leaves but his mind doesn't move on.
He prays wrong. "God would never do that", the priest says.
"Try to let your hate cease, and seek rest,
at the very least, keep it close to the vest. You're the Lord's son."
Close to the vest indeed, trigger finger pressed to his gun.
Done.

The Autumn colour leaves.
Death on his tongue-tip, face to the trees.
College ruled note on his nicely folded sheets.
"Tell my mother that I loved her. Please."