She’d left
Her record on
Last night
When the pair
Was sleeping

Across that floor
By the fire
Where moonlight
Paled
On her face

Dim
As the glow
From her cheeks
Fading quick
As she hassled

Turning fast
Under blankets
Hot
Between flannels
And sex

Sweating thick
When she dreamed
Then waking
Soon
From a nightmare

To the whine
Of her crying baby
Like blues
Of a distant
Affair

His pitch
A piercing wail
Clean
As an instrument
Screaming

Or guitars
Eerily calling
With voices
Loud
From her past

As she laid
Achingly still
Fearing
That music
So distant

Which trailed
Haunting
But closer
Following ghosts
Into rooms

Through shadows
Banging on walls
With messages
Told
By their knocking

Speaking low
Of those devils
Who lived
Not far
From her womb

As hurt
She nurtured
Inside
Grew mad
And shockingly restless

Kicking hard
In her stomach
As she stood
Erect
With a gasp

Pursuing tunes
That she heard
Like tears
Which came
From the kitchen

And an infant
Born in her memory
Not held
Or easily
Fed

Remembering
Losses deep
Yet shallow
Enough
For a bottle

Filled
To the brim
With crimson
Like blood
Of forgotten flesh

On the wood
Which easily stained
From her legs
Spotted
And yielding

Near the fridge
So perfectly
Fallen
Drunk as death
Bid her well

Doubting
Those grapes
Were sweet
That time of year
At the mansion

Peering out
Upon vineyards
Where darkness
Hung
Over fields

Wishing
Her second chance
Wasn’t cursed
Or deemed
Such a challenge

But the sin
Of her husband’s
Obsession
Proved in fact
It just might

Be a source
For continuing rage
As the song
Did play
Until daylight

Reminding
Anna was victim
To a man
Whose legacy
Thrived.

Outside
That morning came
And with it
Work
For the season

But still
No child existed
Except
In her soul
Which had passed

As Anna
Peered
Unto Earth
Unsure if her heaven
Was waiting

Expecting God
Would console her

Instead
He had asked
For revenge.

– J. Pigno