News cast
    
     by Mimi Ferarro

Thrown stone moon, twist branches, shatter trees. News Caster 
announces bodies found says suspect’s ex-wife, two children, a 
boy and girl, live in Chicago. In sequence, surveillance camera 
shows park entrance, squat burly man, sweatshirt hood pulled over 
head, following two children, a boy, a girl.  Every night, repeat 
images; the crime scene: fissure sky, snake paths, plastic tarps 
ripple. Hungry camera waits.  In silence we watch and listen to 
same story over and over again.  Family members braid, unravel—
another interview kills; reporter offers microphone like a raised 
glass, false chalice. Trees menace, shroud.  We know the killer 
now, see him predator stalk children, shadow unconscious past 
brick lined houses to the edge of park.  Enter. Under shovel sky 
watch scythe hammer blows. There in the seminal dark, reflective 
light, hungry faces. Images shiver like lust.