In the darkness, I can feel the heaving,
the staggered breath of something unearthly,
with rounded edges that pulsate eerily upon my fingertips,
da doom, da doom.
I envelope myself around this living catastrophe,
it’s begging to be tamed,
approached with the lushness of virginal buds of spring,
I can carry us under, and over,
Who explicitly states we must be separate — fools!
No allowance to be entwined together until the light of day?
Ne’er will their permission
in the trying periods when mess gets in our way,
then hands and feet we crawl,
dragging through the thick soupy darkness,
only to again meet this being,
it seethes at me,
I simply cannot allow myself to take it in.
There are too many possibilities to trial, you see,
too much future aggravation at stake.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.
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