The Eternity Door
Poems remain forever unfinished, only to be completed by each new reader - Dan Eric Slocum
Saturday, January 7, 2012
across the bow
it is a singular sound. a crack in the breeze.
(gooseflesh popping. teeth chattering.)
the whiz of a missile—the hiss of a viper
just thirty feet above—
a whistle to raise leg hair—
in the pitch of a moonless night.
that goddam thing came straight
from the ebony; out of the ether—
(a black hole knows your name?)
the inky sky
the heave of the vessel. then a voice,
behind you on the stairs.
or maybe you’re alone
maybe you are shivering
maybe you lost your mind