Creature

April 16, 2009
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They come out when the days are

short

Stumble across the cracked cement ground

in the sharpness of night

scratch

critters scurry beneath

bed frames



When the dark is long

and the yellow-green chatter of their

children rocks the cradle to

wake



They will come for salty tears

through the syrup in the cleavage of that doorway

dripping

candlewax melting

onto their bodies

sealed

they are burned into your mind

before you even open your eyes.





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