The Man in the Yellow Shirt
back to me, wild patch of hair.
Intermittently on his cell phone
but never talking.
The way he mumbled
made the hair on my neck protrude.
Utterances...like prayer
but somehow sinister.
A long white gun,
some game remnant,
sat across his table, surprising
out of place.
Inside my head nagging voices;
urged me to run.
Pack up the laptop, and just run.
Part of me; intrigued,
was glued to his presence.
Stealing glances,
repulsed
as he fondled his belt buckle.
I sat beside him and wrote these words.
Hoping, praying (silently)
that he would not turn around.
© Susan Elliott, copyright
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Published by Susan Elliott
Susan Elliott's poetry has appeared in both print and online formats. Susan has recently published her first two Kindle books: Wandering Through a Barely Functional Mind and Ink Blots on Paper. View profile
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2 Comments
Post a Commenteerie indeed!
Frightening poem - you will have to tell me the story. Love ya, sis!