Don’t look.
*
The screen flickers open--
checkerboard teeth, white
bullet points tattooed
across the zigzag black,
back to front.
*
The molar buzz
of static, chomping
down lines of untranslatable
code, rat-a-tat rustle
of information, transferred.
*
Don’t look.
*
Sweat hot and cold
on your skin, acrid
flavor of defeat
curling around your tongue.
*
It can hear you breathing, it can
hear your brain bubbling
as loud as screaming
through the lightning air.
*
Suddenly
*
a woman is singing,
sweet siren of melodies,
gentle notes, soothing,
and you can breathe again,
you can raise your eyeballs,
creaking with strain.
*
Maybe
you were wrong.
Maybe there is nothing to harm you. Maybe
you will wake in the morning,
laughing as the night
terrors lose their grasp.
Maybe---
About the Creator
Alison McBain
Alison McBain writes fiction & poetry, edits & reviews books, and pens a webcomic called “Toddler Times.” In her free time, she drinks gallons of coffee & pretends to be a pool shark at her local pub. More: http://www.alisonmcbain.com/
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