March 1, 2017
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Blind; only
The shadowed crevice behind locked doors;
Organic pagan fires dancing behind closed eyelids;
The suffocating blanket of a moonless night.
That’s all you have.
The persistent knocking of the heart against the skull
Echoes and vibrates between your porous bones,
Begging for release,
Prisoner within layers of calcium and muscle and flesh.
The raspiness of your exhale
(Contain it!)
A lion’s roar in your ears.
Wait like the prey you are for them to come.
Wait, listen, blind, then;
A twig snaps.
The creak of stairs bowing under the weight of a foreign foot.
They’re coming for you.
Good god, they’re coming
And there’s nowhere left to go;
You are trapped here in your darkness,
Blind listener,
Feeling your blood pulse in your fingertips and pressing against your skin
Trying to escape;
Oh please, oh god, please let us escape.
White fire injects your mind. Sense is banished.
This is it:
The penultimate moment.
You can’t think; you can’t breathe
You must act
You must act;
Or you will be wiped from the stars as carelessly as the
Tears they will shed when they hear the news.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight--


When it’s teeth seeps into your bones,
Blood oozing like the syrup drawn from the bark of a winter maple,
You wonder if it made a difference.

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