Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant

she told me I couldn't
write women.
she lays now
in the ground
with a pen in her neck.

maybe I was wrong
to have researched the fact
after the deed had been done-

the look on her
face,
the sound of her
voice,
the spray of her
blood
on the paper.

remorseful I turn
myself back to the
page
to rewrite the worst of my wrongs.