It’s a ring in your ears,
a buzz that creeps to you as its opposite retreats,
knawing away at eardrums.
The pressure builds until suddenly it dissolves,
tsunami wave roaring over beautifully deadly
conch shells in the shifting sands
forever and only
echoing the faint lub-dub of the sea.

It’s alive.

It’s a monster that kidnaps the children first,
gobbling in and spitting them out, cold
stealthily armed with weapons until
the elders are engulfed in their own contraption.
All are affected, all misunderstood,
staring at each other with
ammunition in mouths.
What’s next?

It blossoms into a screaming web with
the rising of the sun
each invisible strand a shot fired,
a petal unfurling.
And with every rising the web weaves
thicker and thicker, knitting a snuggly blanket,
smothering intersecting lasers of knowing eyes
over the din of fibers confining Naughty
to the dark corner
Where the eight-eyed beast glares at the others,
daring for them to make a first flinch…

It’s patient,
It’s comfortable,
It’s silence.