I have seen THE horror
of a place where truth does not exist,
more than the horror of a lost finch,
its heart’s candle
smothered
in the alleys of rain;
more than the horror of a gadfly,
filling my room with the sting of its buzz,
probing sealed windows,
piercing my eardrums,
while death swells from within,
trapping its life-force in silence;
more than a calf
trembling in the lobby of a slaughterhouse,
or a fawn
caught in the ring of hyena fangs;
more than the horror of an innocent convict,
oaring with all his might
toward the gallows,
propelled by floods of swears and spits,
drenched in the stench
of rotten tomatoes and slurs.
I have seen THE horror
bigger than all these horrors combined,
in a place
where truth does not exist,
in
your
eyes.
