By Tricia Marcella Cimera

On the banks of the Loch Ness

the murderer Ian sees

the Monster watching

from the black-water edge.

Ian is not fearful —

he’s just killed his mistress

(cried like a bairn)

and blood fills his heart,

his face a gray rock,

cold as a grave.

                 Nothing but a killer.

He rushes at the creature

with his knife held high,

lips pulled back —

and gets thrown

like a pebble

into the deep lake

by the Monster,

her long neck

a silver scythe

arcing through

the dark Scottish night.

Later, she will find Ian

black-water bloated —

she will glide   smoothly by.

Tricia Marcella Cimera is a Midwestern poet with a worldview. Her work appears in many diverse places — from the Buddhist Poetry Review to the Origami Poems Project.  Her poem ‘The Stag’ won first place honors in College of DuPage’s 2017 Writers Read: Emerging Voices contest. Tricia lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois / in a town called St. Charles / by a river named Fox / with a Poetry Box in her front yard.

2 thoughts on “Loch Ness (Ian’s Night)

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