I wish the world felt
safer than this
where, every evening,
I lay my head amidst
a firestorm of wild mustangs,
steely hooves trailing sparks,
thundering without warning
down the narrow,
perfumed path that
no longer bears the weight
of my few belongings
where yellowing bottles
of laudanum dreams
offer an ease, akin to
daylight’s first soft fingers
tickling my cheek, warm
as laughter under the covers,
last night’s violet silk
shimmying on the bedpost
in a lingering echo of smoke
and dancehall jazz
where hungry wolves,
roused from their dens
in the frozen woods, pace
through the long, winter nights
—their claws puncturing
the tense, icy crust
with each step—waiting for me
to emerge into the cold
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Bhakti2/Pixabay
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