It’s maybe in a dream.  Ask the man holding the gun,


or place your palms on the floor. They know how to listen.


The earth is my witness, you blurt. Children sense the tension.


The shaft runs deep.  A canary is chirpless.


Ruin’s no longer at bay. The risk remains in the blood pulse. 


Hold your ear to your wrist.  Listen to the Aegean at midnight,


a black and moonless water promising to pull you away.