Hunting Grounds

Aluminum femurs clatter

and I know phantoms laugh

from corners of impossible

geometry that steep

conducive skulls like earl

grey left out in the rain

and trail the sewers bitter.

 

Metallic prey chatter

their teeth under loose

shingles. Hornets begin

burying into brainstems

like cavities or tinnitus.

 

Scalene hands clasp

with polarized intent

into an indistinguishable

trapezoid of prayer.

 

Metal detector barks sound

around the perimeter

concocted from hope

and anxiolytics. I know

we’re not alone anymore.

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Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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