Peering over, I see flames flickering with self-importance.
It matters not –
I am Ten Thousand Plagues;
I am the Knife in the Dark;
I am Justice served Raw and Wriggling; And, if I choose, you will drown like landed fish.
Your fires cannot keep
Me out if I want you…
But this night I hunt for other prey.
This Night cloaks and hides and if, Perchance, crimson copper creeps ‘cross the stones,
No one will notice.
The slow drip, the quiet stain;
I lick along serrated glass,
Reflection in obsidian.