snow angel

the smooth lines of her ribcage
pushed against her flesh
like butterfly wings –

(he rubbed the dust off)

an arrant pawn watched horror laced
and trembling,
with one palm flattened
against his pursed lips

a faint cry to God
was overwhelmed by her screaming

(she was terrified
and somewhere,
that fact thrilled him
though her apologies rang high)

vengeance ignited hot and thick
In his veins, as he watched her
suffering intensify

this is what you want, isn't it
this is what you need, isn't it

to survive