Literature
Mea Culpa
Surely you see
just how wrong this is?
Even the streetlamp agrees;
then again,
it saw the whole thing -
woman crumpled
in a stairwell,
only bricks for company.
Oh my hands found her
so ready and willing -
needy,
the fog of rapture
wreathing her head.
My knife
found her best parts
tucked in and plucked -
that treasure
from her belly -
and took it
home.
I made a god
of her,
left her smiling,
bleeding out
her fortune.