October 2009

Routine of a Crime Scene Cleaner

The blood stains between the tiles
Are always hard to get rid of
Even with the special abrasive in my arsenal
The body fat is easier to wipe away
I just use a cotton cloth
And a fat solvent
Brain tissue on the wall
Always fascinates me
Are there any thoughts left in the blobs?

The stench was overwhelming
In the beginning
But I got used to it over the years
I never see the victims
Just their homes and what is left of their bodies
The only thing that stirs my routine up
Is the phone ringing
And the voice of the defunct
Announcing he can’t answer the call right now

*****

Another poem from the Poem a Day-Challenge in April - the writing prompt was “routine”. I had actually watched a programm about a crime scene cleaner and was fascinated in a very strange way…