Body still,
body torn,
cold upon
the moon soaked street,
with blood scaly dried
upon lips blue
and red with light.

Young man staring,
eyes fixed,
open,
rigid,
nothing seen,
and shadows hide
his coloured face
from those who gaze
in the haze,
at scene familiar,
nothing new,
gunshot memories
from the recent past,
as sirens sound,
and body lies alone,
with cold regard,
with silent fear
on chilling street.

3/1/2018