By David Roth
© 20th January, 2005
Dark.
Peaceful.
The only sound
The soft, beat of her heart.
The only movement,
The hypnotic rhythm
Of the rise and fall of her chest,
The somnambulist splendor
Of a soul at peace.
A shriek of terror
The thundering explosion
Of a thousand angry hooves;
Wildebeests stampeding on the Serengeti
The darkness broken
With phosphorescent explosions
Of painful, white bursts of light.
The silence inundated
By angry, defiant screams.
The sharp pain of hot knives
Repeatedly stabbing my chest
As if to deflate the cavity of air
That keeps me alive.
Hot, fetid breath
Billowing from the unseen enemy
Heaviness and fear pervade my senses.
Bright, evil, glowing eyes;
A face staring at me in the dark.
A glance at the lightly illuminated clock
The terror is revealed.
It is five-o’clock in the morning
And the cat’s dish is empty.
