Poetry

It was a free fall.
A plot seems to thicken.
I would never know.
 
Perhaps I will not explain,
how the test tube baby
slapped the sky.
 
The fun of unknowing
the secret of
a cold-blooded murder.
 
Suddenly the streetlamp
goes off. Night cracks
open to release the animal.
 
How a godman
becomes a werewolf?
The shadows are hovering.