I need to learn to look, to gaze, at the pitch
of the passing ‘tween the tunnel’s either end,
to sleep in the black, be centred in the crowd,
as the source springs poisoned waters, flushing with
the force of an ancient switch.

Inherited, ingrained, engendering an
air that weighs on within, marionette to
its reaching wisps that howl at you through time and
make you prey, searing through the limbs:






Image credit: Anette Mossbacher – African Lioness Stalks

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