A Glint of Steel
by
John
C. Mannone
A few cinders poofed inside
the
stone ring and charcoal ash flew up as dust-soot into the cold dawn.
Shriveled-up bacon draped the hickory limbs where they had once crackled over
fire; ranch coffee in aluminum pots, muddied with grounds, now tepid and
abandoned; and blackberry jam, crusted on half-bitten biscuits, stopped oozing
on hardened crumbs long before noon. And the flies swarmed.
Dew streaked the nylon tents
in
dead calm air. Even the squirrels and the chickadees were quiet today. The last
stand of virgin timber stood silent. Only lizards stirred. The skinks scurried
over the oak picnic tables—one was covered over with yesterday’s newspaper.
The headline read that a
suspect
in the Jamestown murders had escaped from the maximum security prison. One of
the guards was shiv’d through his neck. It was unwritten how he had managed
that.
The escapee once told the
news
media why he is the way he is, does what he does. “I used to think that I was a
serial killer, but I’m not; momma said so.” Witnesses said they saw him head
south toward the border, but he disappeared as a ghost.
~~~
By the woods north of town,
seven teens from Grendel County High had camped in the holler. Echoes of their
cries still hung on tulip poplars and loblolly pines. And those pines needled
the air, scarlet dripping with the mist.
The sun rose with blood
on its
hands and a glint of steel in its eyes.
John
C. Mannone has poems in Windhover, North
Dakota Quarterly, Poetry South, Baltimore
Review, and others. Winner/Nominee of numerous
contests/awards, John edits poetry for Abyss
& Apex and other journals. He’s a retired physics professor living in
Knoxville, Tennessee.
http://jcmannone.wordpress.com
https://www.facebook.com/jcmannone/
Nancy Soriano grew
up in New York City and now resides in the Hudson Valley.
She loves the darker side of art—and life. She is rediscovering her love of photography
through her latest muse, her cat Zoey.
