Rena J. Worley

CARPET JONES

The body fell limp on oriental carpet not even
rolling around before I rolled it up then bungee tied.
Love this carpet. Shame it has to go.
Odd my foray into murder, though
calm now, conscience riddled
nightmares will haunt. Heard dead weight
lifted double. Believe it. First rush adrenalin
must have assisted since it proved easier
sliding the roll into car hatch than now out.
Jute back scrapes the soft skin on the inside
of my arms. So much for betrayal. Seems fitting
somehow, this slime disappearing rather than
setting up the next callous misery which arrogant
ego would have led to. Woolen black, golds and
reds really looked sharp against my wood floor.
Slow drag. Moonlight accentuates blue black ahead.
Guess this bare steep decline to forest filled ravine
is suitable. Crumbling dirt edge stymies me.
Exhausted, I carpet roll sit and contemplate.

To unroll or not to unroll.
Unroll decomps more rapidly.
Not unroll assumes less chance of sighting.
Unroll involves a slide down to cover
with dirt and leaves and sticks and rocks and moss
or whatever is handy. Not unroll might unroll
in tumbling descent and then
I’d have to slide down to cover
with dirt and leaves and sticks and rocks and moss
or whatever is handy anyway. Cleaning the carpet
wouldn’t take that much. There are reds in it.
Unroll adds a touch of final humiliation
well deserved. Not unroll adds no vexing
mental images bound to those from my garage.
I love this carpet.
Bungy straps disconnect and loose flesh flops
down the steep decline and I slide down to cover
with dirt and leaves and sticks and rocks and moss
or whatever is handy.


RJ's YouTube video reading of "Carpet Jones":



Subscribe and turn on Notifications for Channel 52.


R.J. confesses: "Coupled 1) a TV crime drama opening shot of two young men unrolling a street scavenged carpet unwittingly tossing a body onto their apartment’s living room floor with 2) a lovey woolen oriental rug laying underfoot. Received as a gift, how I would hate to lose it.

RENA J. WORLEY is a Word Artist residing in rural Michigan. She began publishing in the Five-Two on May 27, 2019.