Monsters on hills,
overlooking the lake,
insides
dark and wasted;
nine volt eyes
propped open.

I tickled their toes,
and they did not
step on me.

Slowly I circled,
ensnaring the lake,
insides
itching with mold;
sun sore eyes
thanking night.

I planted a heart,
so it could grow,
but it don't.

01/16/2007

Posted on 01/17/2007
Copyright © 2024 Nikki Rice