our love didn’t die quietly in the night
it was a drive-by shooting
the kind where a casual word becomes the one bullet that tears through the wall and into a heart that had already stopped beating
should the rifling be inspected, your name will be written in grooves and divots
the casing burns black into the floor – it waits to be shoved into an evidence bag
the outline of my body is drawn on our bed in thick chalk lines
arterial spray: a cloud of red mist on poorly painted walls
my hands are clean of gun shot residue but are filthy with tears
latex-coated fingers calculate how much DNA can be swabbed from my cheeks
will it be enough for the jury?
while the justice system promises, “you’ll get over him”
my sightless eyes stare open, truly blind
Ren Martinez 