Gone – A Poem by Rowe Williams

Two friends hurried down the street
to help a stranger.
The reward for their samaritan alacrity
was a light spatter of blood
on their legs.
A less attentive car
was not interested in helping this stranger.

That was the night I saw someone die.
Labored breath
perfunctorily crushed beneath rubber tires.
There was nothing beautiful about it.
No meaning. Just sudden denouement.
And a graceless corpse adorning merciless asphalt.

The body that had once been a daughter
lay uncovered for hours
as police investigated, in search of
justice. Her face was hidden,
concealing its opinion.

And as the hours dragged
I didn't care. About her.
Just my increasing need
to piss and sleep.

My friends, though, were upset.
Maybe there was something personal
about her blood and mortality.

Then the police let us go.
We left behind the deceased woman.

And eventually, we forgot.