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Book Breaking The space between lines narrowsBook Breaking by ~missmissa07
to arrowheads, so with scissors
I cut along the spine, a Nazi surgeon,
separating skin folds to expose
pages from bindings, covers
tossed into nearby trashcans
with yellowed glue still clinging
on in clumps like fat.
And I am the great divider,
forced to rip innards from casings,
breaking apart throats until silence
envelops the suffering of people
who did not know their beliefs
would lead to their destruction.
Like the crane-armed man
strapped to a cross, scraps
die among the dust
so others may live.
Tornado There is no whisper in the wind—Tornado by ~missmissa07
it howls more than Ginsberg,
like a pack leader at a fully-risen moon.
Raindrops turn to sleet and hit
windows in no predictable rhythm,
but like mallets hitting steel marimbas.
We watch as the sky turns green,
turns clouds into circles in the sky—
We watch because we were raised here,
and we do not fear the wail of sirens
as they warn of increasing winds.
They go off every time a storm draws near,
so that when the thunder overhead shakes
our foundation, we watch, and, like the boy
who cried wolf, the sirens tell us lies.
So while sparrows huddle in their nests,
I stand in the wind
Night of the Hunter He straggles down the empty street,Night of the Hunter by ~missmissa07
past homes with broken windows, missing doors.
The newly-risen moon casts light across alleyways
Where rats feast on rank corpses,—
putrid dogs and cats, starved to death
when their owners went missing.
The hungry rats get their revenge.
But he cannot see through the darkness
at the overturned mailboxes reflecting the full moon
because he has no eyes, only slits
of what was once there, sparkling pupils and green irises.
Instead, he smells the stale air for freshness,
scanning the area with his nostrils.
Hungry, he scuffles out of the neighborhood
when he knows there is no food to be found
on "The Dead Monarch". I love your photos!
Sta.sh
