ON GRASS AND LEAVES DECAYED
Rain falls sideways, pip-pipping sounds
On my bare chest and legs.
The half gray, half crimson sky surrounds.
I search for the answers I cannot reach.
Why am I unclothed in the elements?
Why do I hear and see but cannot feel
The pricks of chilled droplets?
Ah, says my soul.
The rain falls down.
It is you who are sideways
On the grass-and-leaves decayed
Of your woods-remote grave.
The funeral conducted by your killer.
Copyright © 2020 by Priscilla Bettis. Reprinted by permission of the author.
Notes From R.K.
Priscilla Bettis is a writer of frights and horrors based in Virginia. When she’s not writing terrifying thrillers, playing with her dogs, or helping others bring their writing creations to life, Priscilla writes poetry.
This poem gives us a first-hand look into the tragic loss of the poet’s high school classmate. The piece seems like a poet open to a Stephen King novel, but the chilling imagery and haunting tone is unmistakably Priscilla Bettis.