The Proxy, Pyrokinection, August 7, 2012
You hang, head down, a fiend’s joke
dangling in a cave.
Our words fill the hollows with lightning, rain,
bat clicks. When you bite into my ribs,
drums echo against the banks of the river.
I clap together this numbskull’s grin
and swallow the dank air to keep from
those wild, yellow curls are lost to me.
You wait, smelling, almost hearing
blood, this damp earth where I bend over.