Wednesday, October 19, 2011

In the Grip

Awakened! --
to the night holding its breath,
past having entered
while I slept,
air electric
with watching and being watched,
molecules observing molecules observing something (me?) --
something past 
and
something present
jelling . . .
stalkers of empty space
formless, pulsing,
humming mutely.
Hearing their eyes
(through a sense I cannot explain),
I dare not move
for fear of being
seen.

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