Crackle

I set another trap in the kitchen, walk away to wait quietly on the other side of the wall. When the snap comes I remain, unwilling to see the spoils left behind. A death rattle rolls down the corridor, my cruelty at odds with my sense of reason. 

The days, they pass so quickly now. Snow melting, March approaching, all the days are work, something is not adding up but subtracting down. You realize most people live their lives like this. 

But you were promised long ago
that you were not like most people

so the poem rings hollow
in your ears.