Once, I found a man dead in the street
Covered in frost
Darkened by blood
I left him for another to deal with.
My feet left evidence, tracks in the tracking snow
A dusting, thicker than remorse.
I shrugged and decided he would not care-
He was beyond such things, right?
On my way back, I noted that a crowd had drawn.
I wonder still, did the corpse bring them, or the widow’s wailing?
She cried to the sky as if it would answer
I sighed as I closed my door on the scene.
Didn’t she know she was protesting the answer?
With a shudder, I wondered what question had been asked.
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