This poem was originally meant to be the conclusion of a short story that I never finished.
It's about a man who kills another man and runs away, then eventually kills himself. In the story,
it is deliberately unclear who "the cockroach" refers to: the main character or the man he killed.
From "Death Of A Cockroach":
He had taken the time to eat breakfast with Angie. He felt he at least owed her that much,
but now he was behind schedule. He was heading South on highway 285 somewhere near Salida,
hoping he could make it to Durango by nightfall without getting caught, when he decided
he’d better pull over and buy some gas. He wondered again if people knew what he had done
and if they were after him, and if by using his credit card to pay for gas he would be
letting them know where he was. He had no way of knowing if anyone had found David’s body
yet, or how long it would take for the authorities to connect it with his disappearance.
All he knew for certain was that Cindy would be wondering why he hadn’t come home last night.
He had his cell phone with him but he was afraid to turn it on. He was afraid that Cindy
might call, and though he wanted desperately to talk to her he knew he just couldn’t. If he
could only talk to her for a few minutes he could find out if she knew, or if anyone knew,
but he just couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear the thought of talking to her knowing what
he’d done, and the fear that if she knew she would always hate him for it. And if she didn’t
know she would try to talk him into coming home, not realizing the fate that would await him
if he did. By now Martin knew what it was he had to do. He had really known it all along,
but when it came right down to it he wasn’t quite ready to do it. After he paid for his gas
he drove around looking for a convenience store where he purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels,
a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of sleeping pills. Comfortable with his decision and resigned
to his fate, Martin headed back to the highway. Over miles and miles of lonely road his mind
kept replaying the events which had led him to this precipice.
The story goes into detail about Martin and Cindy's marital problems, then goes on to tell
about Cindy's relationship with a man named David who does everything he can to break up their
marriage. One night Martin shows up at David's house, shoots him twice in the chest, and then
in the head at close range. In the process he gets blood all over the gun and the sleeve of his
jacket. He goes into the bathroom and washes his hands, takes off his jacket and wraps the gun
in it. He puts them in the trunk of his car, then starts heading west toward Colorado.
At the end of the story Martin is in a cheap motel room in Southern Utah. He's drinking his vodka
with the bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table as a cockroach creeps across the floor.
He starts praying to a God he doesn't believe in, asking for forgiveness for what he's done,
and begging to see Cindy just one more time. As he's praying he notices the cockroach on the
bedside table. He's totally repulsed by the sight of the cockroach and squashes it with the bottle
of vodka. (His repulsion at the sight of the cockroach is intended to parallel God's repulsion at
the sight of him.) He then throws the bottle of sleeping pills as hard as he can across the room,
runs outside, gets the gun out of the trunk and shoots himself in the head. When the police arrive
they find him face downward in the parking lot with the gun in his hand. The door to his room is open,
and inside they find glass and sleeping pills all over the floor and a dead cockroach on the table.
They try to piece together what happened and just what brought him to that point.
Sometimes we find there is no answer
when we seek the reason why.
For all are cockroaches in His sight
and every one deserves to die.
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
A Collection of Voices from Around the World is more than just a poetry compilation. It is a partnership of poets from around the globe brought together by an internet poetry forum. That forum, poetrypages.com, has been the home of many a fine poet s
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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It's about a man who kills another man and runs away, then eventually kills himself. In the story,
it is deliberately unclear who "the cockroach" refers to: the main character or the man he killed.
From "Death Of A Cockroach":
He had taken the time to eat breakfast with Angie. He felt he at least owed her that much,
but now he was behind schedule. He was heading South on highway 285 somewhere near Salida,
hoping he could make it to Durango by nightfall without getting caught, when he decided
he’d better pull over and buy some gas. He wondered again if people knew what he had done
and if they were after him, and if by using his credit card to pay for gas he would be
letting them know where he was. He had no way of knowing if anyone had found David’s body
yet, or how long it would take for the authorities to connect it with his disappearance.
All he knew for certain was that Cindy would be wondering why he hadn’t come home last night.
He had his cell phone with him but he was afraid to turn it on. He was afraid that Cindy
might call, and though he wanted desperately to talk to her he knew he just couldn’t. If he
could only talk to her for a few minutes he could find out if she knew, or if anyone knew,
but he just couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear the thought of talking to her knowing what
he’d done, and the fear that if she knew she would always hate him for it. And if she didn’t
know she would try to talk him into coming home, not realizing the fate that would await him
if he did. By now Martin knew what it was he had to do. He had really known it all along,
but when it came right down to it he wasn’t quite ready to do it. After he paid for his gas
he drove around looking for a convenience store where he purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels,
a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of sleeping pills. Comfortable with his decision and resigned
to his fate, Martin headed back to the highway. Over miles and miles of lonely road his mind
kept replaying the events which had led him to this precipice.
The story goes into detail about Martin and Cindy's marital problems, then goes on to tell
about Cindy's relationship with a man named David who does everything he can to break up their
marriage. One night Martin shows up at David's house, shoots him twice in the chest, and then
in the head at close range. In the process he gets blood all over the gun and the sleeve of his
jacket. He goes into the bathroom and washes his hands, takes off his jacket and wraps the gun
in it. He puts them in the trunk of his car, then starts heading west toward Colorado.
At the end of the story Martin is in a cheap motel room in Southern Utah. He's drinking his vodka
with the bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table as a cockroach creeps across the floor.
He starts praying to a God he doesn't believe in, asking for forgiveness for what he's done,
and begging to see Cindy just one more time. As he's praying he notices the cockroach on the
bedside table. He's totally repulsed by the sight of the cockroach and squashes it with the bottle
of vodka. (His repulsion at the sight of the cockroach is intended to parallel God's repulsion at
the sight of him.) He then throws the bottle of sleeping pills as hard as he can across the room,
runs outside, gets the gun out of the trunk and shoots himself in the head. When the police arrive
they find him face downward in the parking lot with the gun in his hand. The door to his room is open,
and inside they find glass and sleeping pills all over the floor and a dead cockroach on the table.
They try to piece together what happened and just what brought him to that point.
Sometimes we find there is no answer
when we seek the reason why.
For all are cockroaches in His sight
and every one deserves to die.