The Foreseen Murder

-

The blood is thick water of the body,

Its spatters and small puddles lay upon the floor callously.

Her motionless body screamed.

As the deep red all around blinded them,

only their slow, uneven breathing could be heard;

the aroma of flowers in bloom faded

until only the sour taste of death touched their tongues.

Standing in the estate’s parlor, they knew it had been her lord, Sir William.

The aroma of flowers had in fact been the curdling smell of blood,

which meandered maliciously in the air like unseen smoke.

“Non ce la faccio piu!” the man exclaimed, running from the room.

His fragile footsteps feigned stability as he strode down the screeching stairs.

The walls laughed, knowing what had happened,

but they wouldn’t share the secret.

The scene before them was grotesquely beautiful.

Camilla, a maid, crept forward silently,

thinking that if she didn’t the castle would shatter

from the noise of her shuffling feet.

The maid and butler’s legs shook on the soft wooden floor

as they all heard a hardened cry,

making them all turn, fear in their eyes,

to see the murderer, holding his sharp, glinting lies.

-

Non ce la faccio piu – I can’t take it anymore. (Italian)