Unanswered by B F Jones

B F Jones, Poetry

They dig right under where it is

Where it should be

Where you point  

A molten finger,

Underneath

That stone angel.

This is where she is,

Was. Her eternal residence

Below moody skies

Avalanches

Of unanswered questions

Rage 

Tears.

They dig, but she’s not there

Revolving blue lights

Revealing confusion,

Panic

Consternation.

She’s gone they say,

She’s gone you can see

A box empty

Of all that was left

Proof

Reality

Tragedy.

She’s gone and with it

The murmured claims

Of your insanity.

And  

You will never know.

B F Jones is French and lives in the UK. She has flash fiction and poetry in various UK and US online magazines.  Her poetry chapbook, Last Orders, and collection, Panic Attack, will both be published by Close To The Bone late 2021