Left hemisphere seized up
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
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