The coroner called it suicide.
Shot in the face with his own pistol,
three in the morning in his ex-
girlfriend’s kitchen. Only the two
of them to bear witness, one left
to give the report. He knew better.
Went there on a tear to prove again
his unworthiness, to tell her all
his words could fail to say,
to stumble over the coffee table
as if he weren’t two decades lost
on her tenderless stare,
the last look he would see.
She treated him as a bad
as woman could hate herself
and so he loved her like
the mother that threw him out,
into state care, because she also
grew from hurt and a poisoned past.
4 thoughts on "Rusty’s Song"
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Scott — another strong one bearing witness.
wonderful, tragic, story
I appreciate the ironic title to this tale.
Such a strong story. Wish I could bury him in Pine Mountain Cemetery.