Uninvited, he sits
as words surge past
to slice away years.
No flutter of membrane
betrays the presence
of three thousand simple eyes,
watching as dreams
are butchered below.
Perhaps he lingers to dine
on Shiraz, clotting
in the carpet's frayed weave.
More likely he waits
because of his nature:
drawn by the smell
of dead things.
Ryan Stone is a freelance writer, guitarist and poet from Melbourne, Australia. He shares his home in the blue Dandenongs with his wife, two young sons and a German Shepherd. On daily walks through his forest surrounds, he often peers down rabbit holes.
Eerie, Ryan. I like it! Good to see you on Black Poppy.
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