with
precious possessions
clothes & memories
her world condensed
downsized
into her backpack
thought they had
a beat
a rhythm
crunched out
punk funked
revved up
hard thumping
groove
today
listening to the darkest of darkest
nick cave sounded to her like
a bee bop roller
cramming her life
with
sounds manic poetics
pet shop tribal jazz
watching past punk on the
big plasma screen
brought her back to the
streets
to top up her escape account
watching the rollers
playing the punters
while she got the jon doe
fate of a wild card draw
kept her on the game
collecting her tricks
she practiced her craft
morticians applauded
waived their fees
her weapon of choice
a razor sharpened chopstick
which she kept in her hair
she honed it’s deadly point
while watching re-runs of TinTin
oh! that little cartoon
boy detective
she so wanted to kill
just to stab in the heart
like the jons she did in
the dark of night
but
could not see the irony of
the mangy black mutt
which followed her home
she kept & named
AGATHA
hearing a radio
playback of
delta dawn
she learnt the words
changed her name and form
dressed in black with
milk white skin
wet lips of blood red dew
always
in her backpack a copy of
“the black dahlia”
her book of choice when waiting
for the next jon doe
to walk into her web
she never claimed to be a widow
but
professed to be in mourning
all the while her escape account
X pan DED
in the stealth of darkness
her artful skills expertly honed
at morning light another
body lay in a pool of
rich red blood
dickless
each & everyone
she kept her trophies in a jar
at the back door
Agatha wanted to eat the prizes
but
she just laughed
a hollow laugh squeezed in one more
her watch always set to 11.52p.m.
time to start her work
tonight
in the morning light
her tortured body lay
blood red lipstick
smeared
about her cold chalk white face
she got the wrong numbered
jon last night
this freaking trick fought back
he won the fight
her life he cut down through
& throooooough
the blood soaked thatch of hair left
by her face was all of her
abdomen forensics could identify
for this jon cut and hacked
hacked and cut in blind
frenzied flight
inside
her backpack
her possessions
downsized
a bank account
a travel brochure
dated 1989 the year of her birth
a wet dry honing stone & file
a tintin video
a dog eared copy of
“the black dahlia”
inside the cover
in her own hand the words of
delta dawn
a few lines from a Nick C song
signed
delta black
wants to backpack around the world
1stJanuary 2004
Honorable mention
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