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 A Boat Ride in Summer..a tale of murder and broken glass
The day was warm. The lake resembled glass.
She wore a cruel smile on her mocking mouth;
A succubus' mirth. She lounged in the bow
sipping champagne. She held his head and
wound his hair through her fingers. Her grip
on his curling locks was arousing  to
 
his sensual nature. He began to
turn in the prow, causing her long stemmed glass
to shatter on the floor. She lost her grip
then, and fell upon his desirous mouth.
She kissed him keenly, both chastity and
virtue forgotten. The boat caused a bow

shock as it moved forward untended. Bow
and stern of the small craft appeared to
be empty from the shore. The pair rolled and
wrestled upon their bed of broken glass,
heedless of  blood, pain or even  the mouth
of the cave that loomed before them. His grip

tightened on her waist just as the current's grip
towed them under the pendulous rock. Bow
strings echoed from the pavilion. Her mouth
curved in the darkness as she held him to
her breast. She reached for a shard of  the glass
unmindful of its jagged hilt. Low and

mournful, the cello called from afar, and
blended with the sound of thunder. Her grip
tightened, blood ran over her wrist. Her glass
dagger held tightly, she jabbed at the bow
she had pinned to his breast… Sheets of rain began to
patter upon the smooth lake. His lax mouth

gaped open like the cave they were in… a mouth
dark like death. She clung tightly to him, and
held his corpse close to her heart…trying to
find solace in the sound of the musicians' grip
on Debussy's La Mer. Her lips curved bow-
like in a soft smile, and her eyes shone like glass.

Her mouth showed no reaction. But the grip
of carnality, in the small craft's bow
seemed right to her as she stared at the bloodied glass.



Ramona Gibson Hughes
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