Dead Man's Eyes

He was hanging in line with the elder trees

From an oak that had broken the line,

That’s why they probably missed him, he

Became as one in design.

He wore a shabby old overcoat

But his hat lay there on the ground,

It wasn’t until a jogger who fell

Looked up, that the man was found.

 

The firemen cut his body down

While the police stood back a pace,

Then loaded him into an ambulance

With a consequent lack of grace.

His eyes were staring, his jaw was slack

And his arms flopped north and south,

But most of all, and what appalled

Was the purple tongue in his mouth.

 

Nobody seemed to know who he was

His clothing tags had been cut,

There wasn’t a wallet or envelope

In the pockets of his old coat.

‘He must be someone, but who knows who?

And why was he hanging there?

Could this have been murder or suicide,

And really, does anyone care?’

 

He didn’t come up on the Missing List,

Nor his face on a Mug Shot file,

No-one was desperately phoning in,

He must have been gone for a while.

‘There’s a picture there, on his retina,’

The photographer said at last,

‘If we blow it up, it might give us a clue,

What he saw at his final gasp.’

 

The rope had been knotted behind his neck

So his head had been angled down,

His eyes had bulged as the blood withdrew

And snapped what he saw on the ground.

A woman was stood there, looking up

With an anguished look on her face,

Her hands together, as if in prayer

But holding a can of Mace.

 

The police supplied an identikit

And published it over the news,

They passed it around the prison guards

And questioned most of the Screws.

But they didn’t mention the woman there

Reflected in each of his eyes,

They kept that piece of forensic back

As their own well kept surprise.

 

The plain clothes men at the funeral

Were alert, but hid in the trees,

They’d made it known where the man was going

And when, to the cemetery,

So when a woman in black appeared

To watch as the coffin fell,

They swooped, and took her in charge right then

As she cried, ‘I’ve been in Hell!’

 

She cried all over the interview,

They thought that her heart would break,

‘I messed right up,’ was her one refrain,

‘It was one great big mistake!

We’d been together, over a year

And I loved him, he was nice,

But then he began to dabble in drugs

And he played about with ice.’

 

‘I begged and begged, but he wouldn’t stop,

And his violent side came out,

He ran amok and he wrecked our home

And he’d start to scream and shout,

I should have gone to the police right then,

Should have had him in rehab,

But I bought the Mace to protect myself,

I know, you must think I’m mad!’

 

‘Then he’d sober up, see what he’d done

And would be so full of remorse,

I had to forgive him, every time

Just as a matter of course,

Until the day that he knocked me down

And I said, ‘No going back!

I can’t put up with this any more,’

Then he took the rope from the shack.’

 

‘I followed him into the woods out there

And I tried to talk him down,

But he climbed the oak and he tied the rope

And he told me, with a frown,

‘The devil has got me by the throat

And I died when hitting you,

I’ll never deserve of your love again

What a terrible thing to do!’

 

‘Then he jumped,’ she said, and burst the dam

For her tears would never stop,

She went back into the woods again

To plant forget-me-nots,

And I heard she’d died of a broken heart

And was buried where he lies,

But still lives on in that photograph

As seen in a dead man’s eyes!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[MomzillaNC]

I've seen and read a few interpretations of that theory. It's really very intriguing, the thought that the last thing we see is seared on our retinas and can be recalled from the grave by technology. It's all bunk, of course, but intriguing. And you've woven great and tragic tale of drug-addled degradation and abuse and love and loss.

[R Smith]

a fantastic tale David, i love the dead man's eyes theory, unlikely of course but it makes such a great story and you know how to use these things to the greatest effect, you are the master of words its true to say :)

[Valentine]

A new write on a new trouble spot in society today. A few years ago 2 young men in my neighborhood hung themselves. Not at the same time... but over drugs and women. Guess it is the old Adam and Eve thing that twists human nature. Kathie

[Marie]

I'm not so sure it's "bunk", that the last thing a dead man sees is seared on his retinas. He died by violence, even though it was his own. That makes a difference.

She was a very foolis woman, who loved too much...

[Barbz]

What is it that we take with us, the visions before we die. Is the truth that only you think you know, turn out to be some others lie? Does hidden addiction, and ones that are known, bring curse to our world over time, and cause ourselves, and the ones that we love, and weaken the strength of that line. It's all over now, we have broken the bough, there are tears, many questions and sighs.....But the truth of what was. Is not in the bones, but, indeed, remains in that dead mans eyes..........Barbz

[Gee]

Another really good poem,story David.Masterful.
Happy new year to you and your kin