Manda Simmons – Poetry


Dirt red diamonds splatter his chest.
Spittle froths like frog eggs hatching from his lips.
He lies on stinging sweaty snow,
Steam dancing in the air from his shallow breathing.
His eyes don’t see,
Black like mold,
Glassy and blank.
Fingers unfurl,
Catching the sunlight in his palm.
He turns his face away from
the blinding white
And shuts his mouth.