Den

I tripped into a foxhole
down 
	down
		down
shiny black button eyes beamed
a dime a dozen for your doe-eyed sins
can you call your mother’s name?

Sleek and shining you
see
	me
		bleed
matchstick machete prick my fragile fingertips
I see you’ve laid out traps for me 
can you call your mother’s name?

Ember red and raging you push me
up
	up
		up
through the blinding lightning sky
smolder there while I get colder 
I’ll tell mother that you called.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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