Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #50
Murphy, Seamus, and Jenna by Belinda Roddie Murphy, Seamus, and Jenna all convened by the pearly gates, drinking wine, spinning their fingers in their robes. They did not speak, instead communicating with body language. Murphy had burned to death, the scars only just fading from his stark gray face. Seamus had died in his sleep, dust picking up around his ankles beneath the sheets. And Jenna had overdosed on small pink pills kept beside her bedpost every night (The toothpaste stain still had not gone away from her fingernails). She had died quickly. The three Irish strangers then moved away from where they stood with nothing left to say.