Crawl Space


The wall winds dark

& broken, vacant whir from lack

of air. Flies whisper

past the wandering city.


The blind one’s fingers drag

across a star map. Here,

he hums, no one will find

your thoughts. Nestled & lonely.


I wait until the tapping stops.

Use a frayed piece of rope

to note my path. Gather

what I trip over to feed hunger.


Here is quiet. Absence of history.

No one screams how much more.

If you stumble upon my secret, beware.

I wield a silver whip covered in blue pins.