Gossamer Omen

It happened to uncle first,

Death by letter,

Murder by post.

​The scene unfolded in front of me,

The fragility,

the paper cut,

the opening of my heart.

Then dad went.

Slipped in from the Messenger's hoard.

Bundles and piles.

The blood dripping off his hands,

Soaking the salty ground.

The message clear as death.

Then Alfred was hit.

Stung in the chest.

Ripped from life.

Crackling and crunching,

Weeping and roaring.

A responded stimulant.

A crater in our lives.

A letter on the mantel piece.

Almost normal.

Always happening.