Spill

On beaten wings and quiet crest, he comes for you and cuts your throat. Split lip lingers on request for ears boxed and bandaged.

A gift. You will not return.

He towers over trembling corpse, still pushing blood…then…quiet.

A smile cracks his mouth. Lighting cracks the sky.

Both sink quick as moment dies.

Candle

They march on clay and bone. Deader eyes have not. Rotting there end there. Out of ground to steal. Dragging dirt and loosely lit. Candle rot drips to lead. They grunt, hard-packed and doom. Claw and bear hanged from fray. The braid swings knot. Cast for fall and fallen behind the moon.

An empty room. An empty room.

Echoes stir and settle to define a space in time.

A heavy moment when all is not.

He is coming.

Move

It lurches at on tired legs, terrible and direct. Breaking bones. Snapping limbs. Scorched earth smolders beneath its wake, ashen and ash are now the land and sea. Settle dust upon its brow, always moving, dirt pushed out. Rocks crushed down by pressure of steady gait, as time gives up it’s vigil wait…too much tick and pause between. Clouds wrap tight. The sun breaks juggernaut.

Rust

Skeleton rust squeaks through veins, sliding on corners and scraping flaked walls, holding it in. It wants out…and about that window, never closed but not wide enough a slit to sneak through and away. We are trapped. For our own good, they say. A short polluted stay, some day we will understand, underground. Maybe just one more day, okay? Covered mouths hide rattled teeth while hands and knees, we hide beneath, injected. The slow infected hover above their final rest, fingers curling and hair pulled in. Watching corners for shadows merge, the bell rings for us, a final dirge before the dawn.