Why didn’t I call

Arash is the son of Persian immigrants from Iran. He is a Mechanical Engineer from Sydney. Since the 2014 Martin Place terrorist attack, he has become the subject of high security alert during his work travels. His backyard backs on to the national park where the body was discovered.

“Detective, uhm… I didn’t want to be the one to report a body near the vicinity of my backyard. I checked to make sure she was dead. If she had any sign of life, I would have called an ambulance straight away. I thought someone else would find her and report to the police. I ah…look at me! I just didn’t want to be an Arab to report a murder. I am over being stopped and searched at the customs because of my appearance. I am an Australian you know. Anyway..maybe I just watched too many crime series. I am sorry. I should have called you guys. My God the poor woman.”

 

Trapped

he barely goes to the well
he knows spring ain’t flowing

there were times
hard times, soul searching times
he sat by the well
sobbing
telling her about the hard yakka
he poured into the farm
yet yielded no return
except rats

he gave thanks to her
for the insurance money
which kept it going
and kept him sane
not by her own will though
then
he cursed her for
the nightmares
she inflicted upon him

“I love you sweetheart.
You had been good to me.
The farm is my everything.
I sacrificed you.
Now I am bearing the pain and loss.
Would you let go of my torment,
depart from me my darling wife?”

Why aren’t the roses growing

his neighbour always had a smile
hanging above her taut full lips
wearing yoga pants and platform shoes

she also had a cat always hungry
the feral creature preyed on his birds
with deprived and snarling face

he checked the cage everyday
OCD on its bars and lock
leaving no chance for the predator

to his dismay
he returned home to find an empty cage
with no sign of his two budgies
only
the feline was grooming uncaringly

he is looking out the window to the garden
wondering why his roses are’t growing
blood and bones are meant to be
excellent feed for roses

he was careful with the burial
to ensure gradual decomposition
and slow release

he cannot understand
why aren’t the roses growing
perhaps cats do indeed
have nine lives

Unusual case

a murder mystery
occured at three o’clock
nobody’s around at noon
only a mutt roaming the morgue

here laying horizontal
a koi once was coy

would it be the furry feline
who is licking its lilac coat
or the hunt alone heron
who is parading the pasture

the crime scene creates suspicion
blue-green algae blankets afloat
the floppy leaved floating lilies
consealing goldfish’s corpses

tainted water toxic pond
poisonous plant
inflicted the innocents
unusual mystery unravelled

Rust

the sky is weeping
for the loss of
a loving mother
a supportive daughter
a caring friend
at the blooming age of 33

the wind is raging
against her murderer
a chameleon charmed his way
into her innocent heart
a fungi corrupted her being
eventually caused her to
lose her defence

she is lying in repose
a beauty covered in rust
like a tainted rose

The Crime Hierarchy

the rambunctious head of the household
submissive yet overbearing advocate
dependents running wild
in the confine of farming life

leather face old man that hunts with a rifle
she runs over little lambs for feast
children grew up witnessing these normalities

one of the children
was convicted of second degree murder
the noise of the struggle
screaming, screeching, pleading
he had to bring them to silence

when you apply the transitive logic
it all makes sense

Snow globe

it has been a long week
the nights have been extra trying
without knowing if
his name will be cleared

little Leila has nightmare again
screaming down the duplex
she is racing up the stairs
almost trips over her own slippers

she holds Leila to calm her shakes
kissing her head and humming ‘edelweiss’
her sobs and shakes subside
her eyes are on the squirrel
trapped inside the snow globe

she follows Leila’s gaze
tips the snow globe upside down
the snowflakes flying all over the squirrel

just before she puts it back on the side table
her fingers feel the stickiness
she turns it over again
and sees the crimson edge of the snow globe

it has been a long week
the nights have been extra trying
without knowing if
his name will ever be cleared
now that her suspicion
finds its substance