Circle round to
spy the back,
search for crevices
between the bricks of the walls
between the bowels of the earth.
The hours slurp by
like a snail slithering.
Crouch in wait
fire against your face--
close and not close
you predator,
ready to pounce
Hold tight to the past
a burden on your back
each time echoing the first--
Raise it, clutched like a spear--
even life can be a knife
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