Afflatus

Cautionary Tale

I'll be eaten alive one day:

one day, i see it in my mind

so close to closure along an empty street

late at night

(owls just retired and birds

not yet up),

orbs of light tethered to tall electric poles

cast dappled circles on cracked pavement;

illumination and safety 

(for that two metre radius).

Stepping between them

like a girl child on stones

across a garden,

I anticipate each missed step

as sinking into sand or frightful waves.

  

Singing drunk back-alley lullabies

i'll soothe the skelebabies in their sleep,

their poor crusted noses snuffled against

a cold shift of air

(their private torment plastered over billboards

with corporate logos and dim colours,

suggesting the city's lights have gone out and

the local government is in frantics.

That is, after all, what you'd focus on)

  

Girl child games were so tipsy and magic

(and so close to real coldness);

between two orbs of light i'll slip 

through the cracks

in the pavement.

THE END.

(eat me alive,

eat me alive,

eaten alive by the

wolf at the door)