POEM: Solitary

subterranean
take a thick slab wall &
bury it deep underground
a tomb smothered by tombs

rat squeak reality check
is the only sound one knows
except… when they come

when they come
there’s the warning squeal
of the rusty hinge of a metal door

faint means it’s another cell
a melange of guilt & relief
tingles about one’s skin & viscera

but when the squeal is
like a plow furrow
rutting up one’s spine

they’ve come for you

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.