Kindred - A Murder Sonnet

Kindred - A Murder Sonnet

Eva shuffles twin iron pots makin' room
for fry-pan on grief's charred burner. Supper
fork and spoon washed clean. Plate soakin', Eva
wrings cold hands 'neath dead mama's threadbare quilt.

Not one for roses, she'll pick what Alden's
due: braid stems to toss on his weedy grave.
In honeysuckle snares, she spits and swears–
Alden, you'll rot in hell's dungeon from now on …

Bastard lynched her lover, Burl, then slung his
black corpse in the Yadkin to drift on down.
Like whitewashed bed sheets, Alden's knot still haints
the home place. She pines over Burl's strong hands.  

Lust's passion spirals, clouds where night hawks fly–
she learnt hate's peace serving Burl's killer lye.

Author: Sam Barbee

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Photo Credit: Shutter Speed on Unsplash