She fell down the stairs, that’s where the cut on her forehead came from.
The room was ordinarily cold, but. But
Add to it the coldest day ever in February.
Ever in London.
Add to it the windows opened all the way.
The wind pushed the curtains,
They did not block the murderous cold.
And, neither child was old enough to climb over the wooden bars
Of their cribs. No.
II
The cut over the poet’s eye, just so
Like his next victim who would follow
The head placed, resting on its side
No more.
No more the perfection of
Words shaped to define a
Marriage, a union gone wrong.
Instead silence from a world wanting
To let go, ignore, turn its back.
Until now.
Renee Ebert
Renee Ebert studied English Literature at Georgetown University and has a Master’s in Public Health from UCLA. She grew up in New Jersey near New York City and has lived in or experienced most of the places she writes about in her works.