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Blood on Latex

My job requires I do alot of road running, quite often to those little corners that even the local residents have forgotten.  Many of my narrative poems are inspired by the empty and aging farmhouse, where I'm left waiting for clients that never show, and my imagination gets to run wild, creating grand and fabulous tales of heart-ache and intrigue.  Occasionally however, the real world invades, and no imagination is required, rather, I'm simply left with a story to be told.  The particular situation this piece was inspired by, was a terrible event for me, one of those defining moments, that changes the core of who you are. 

Blood on Latex

Timid, she answers, at first denying
While hiding blood on latex gloves
Wanting not to say.

Lying, she refuses to open the door
Even though I've been invited
Scent of metal

I persist, eyes not believing, doing my job
Seeing blood on latex gloves
Buckshot in wall boards

Tears now freely streaming, dissolving
Exposing bloody latex hands
"He shot himself today."

I back away, fearful
Mind racing as it tries to comprehend
Blood on latex
Natasha Head


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Pat said…
Wow getting really disturbing now..lol..what you see in one of those farmhouses. Nice little read though.
March 9, 2011 at 9:05 PM
Tashtoo said…
The farmhouses I can handle...this was a tiny little cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere! Real story=real disturbing...you wouldn't believe some of the tales I've yet to tell...just have to work up the nerve!
March 9, 2011 at 9:13 PM
Pat said…
Wow guess you see all kinds of things in the backwoods huh? While I'm not that surprised as I'm from the country too, so I've seen it all, rather not remember half of it..lol..oh and...

In your second comment you called Brian Brain, now it's going to rain.
Were you just flustered that you didn't get first, next time you'll be faster and quench your rhyming thirst.

lol
March 9, 2011 at 11:29 PM
Anonymous said…
This could be the prologue to a mystery story! I much liked how you intertwined your own reaction with the scene and the sparse actions/words of the woman in the gloves, all to emphasize the horror of it.
March 10, 2011 at 9:56 AM
Tashtoo said…
This one was difficult for me to post, because there is no tale to hide behind, and no rhyme to sweeten it's flow. I debated back and forth, and may still have to delete it. It was a big step to share this, as it was a moment that shaped who I've become. Silly poetic babble, I suppose, but none the less...it still bothers me. (I so prefer the world where my rose~colored glasses are in style! lol)
March 10, 2011 at 10:10 AM
Cogswell said…
REally good poem, Natasha. I think the repetition in the piece really helps to deliver the effect. Found this from your tweet. Thanks.
March 10, 2011 at 10:22 AM
Joe Hesch said…
Ben's right, Tasha. This finger in the wind outside your comfort zone sounds full of promise. Leaves me wanting more. If not of this story then of some of those other dim corners of your soul. I'm told that writing is as much about our own discoveries as it is for the reader's. So, welcome to my dark little world. You can always turn the light back on, so don't worry.
March 10, 2011 at 10:23 AM
Tashtoo said…
Joe, thanks so very much. Encouragement such as this may help me delve even deeper into the dark...and leave you all running with dread! lol I was surprised at much much this one event still troubles me, and if not for the piece above, would have been content to keep swimming in my sea of denail!

Now I'm off to find this fellow by the name of Cogswell, to let him know how much I appreciate his stopping by too :)
March 10, 2011 at 10:48 AM
Pat said…
3 comments on my one post, while aren't you the most.
Of course you messed up, need a new coffe cup?..lol

What be more surprising is if the event didn't trouble you, at least I think. That's something no one wants to view and trust me I know a thing or 50 about this topic, more than I care too.
March 10, 2011 at 12:30 PM
Brian Miller said…
whew...shakes to the core indeed, vivid read. its tales that true that make the best muse, delight and confuse...all too real in todays reveal...
March 10, 2011 at 12:49 PM
Tashtoo said…
aha..you were missing the rhyme, weren't you
With Brian and Pat that's trouble times two!
Guess I'll just pray, for a much brighter day
Did you note the typo's?I'm in trouble I say!
Today I'm taking Joe's advice to heart
I'm going to dwell where it's nice and dark :)

stay tuned!
March 10, 2011 at 1:03 PM
Monty said…
I'd not del it, natasha; it's got teeth--raw power. you hear so much of this yet rare to experience it so close

bummy / monty
March 10, 2011 at 5:27 PM
Anonymous said…
I often wondered when I would see this? I knew it was only a matter of time before I would get to read a poem to bring us back to that day. It gave me chills when I was reading.
March 10, 2011 at 7:38 PM
Tashtoo said…
Hello Anonymous, this was a day that, until now, was only shared with a close circle of my peers, who are you who knows so much?

Monty, thanks for the vote of encouragement, as mentioned, this was a risk for me, and your opinion and thoughts are truly valued...certainly far from the warm embrace of the ballad! :)
March 10, 2011 at 8:13 PM
Anonymous said…
No silly poetic babble here! If I may, in all your poetry I've read so far, there is a mix of light and dark, which is always the hallmark of growth and reality. This one is dark, but the narrator is not. And even in the utterly fabulous 'Back to Darkness', there is light in the dark. I'll stop now before this turns into an essay. :-)
March 11, 2011 at 9:57 AM
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