horror · monsters · poetry

No Such Thing Part 2

shattered

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Left hemisphere seized up

No grease

Sand in the gears

Amygdala sensory alert

Walking into the aftermath of the maelstrom

The tinkling echoes of 10,000 shards of glass

Pastel and clear confetti

Embedded in the carpet

Like IEDs for unwary tender feet,

It will be a long time before skin

Touches the floor.

A strong smell of alcohol, mixed with kerosene,

Pervades the space,

Cloying in the back of the throat.

Five steps away

Maimed plant stems are strewn,

Ripped asunder from

Pots’ companions.

A river of dried mud

Traverses the ceramic floor.

Blinds wait five more steps away,

Across the bedroom slider entrance.

With two deputies bringing up the rear

Motionless, patient, they wait

Until trembling hands slide them aside

And bulging eyes

Hope not to have a bullet

Placed between them.

The coast is clear;

The weapon is untouched.

Deputies are now free to search

For what some say there is no

Such thing as.

He’s curled, dozing, in the back,

In the dark.

Disturbed, his abrasive voice cuts the air

Like a buzz saw cuts fresh oak with a dull blade.

Taunting, offering himself as a sacrifice

To the heroic protectors of law and order.

Their ears calloused, businesslike

They follow standard procedure

And treat him like the usual drunk.

“Click” go the cuffs,

And the madman shuffles off

To his caged chariot.

He dozes briefly, until

The chariot finds the darkest

Stretch of the country road.

He speaks with authority now

Says, “I am a demon” and, “I am legion.”

The deputy looks up into the

Glowing eyes staring back at him

In the rearview mirror.

 

Caged for now, he awaits due process

While we pick up the broken pieces

And wait.

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