Poetry by Mary Bast
Monday, June 28, 2010
Somber leaves hiss in the night wind,
dark mounds conspiring.
Gaping spaces in tooth-torn trees
become mouths in silent screams.
Distant light falters, obscured
by clawed hands of weaving limbs.
With fierce-nugget eyes cats
slink by, brush my skin
it shudders the length of fear,
hairs probing the air for omens.
One foot marks the porch edge:
inches to safety or the last walk.
Terror lies taut
eyeless, inward. Beast
knows where the knives keep.
From the Depths, Haunted Waters Press
, September 2012
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