A blinding

A blinding

Jane Dougherty

I lock the door; the wind blows black this night
through teeth locked in a rictus. Bitter glow
of broken moonlight bathes the restless trees.

Against the birds tossed dark and angry from
the north sky, clacking bone curse in their beaks,
I lock the door. The wind blows black this night.

Key rattles in the lock, by unseen hand
is turned. I have no will to move, and plead
through teeth locked in a rictus. Bitter glow

from bird-black eyes, the taloned fingers snatch
and blind; the smell of blood, the stench
of broken moonlight bathes the restless trees.

Jane Dougherty

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