FLIGHT
Stephanie Smith
These days I leave my body in
a moment of flight. A wave of panic
I try to dream each day but drown
These days the taste of flesh is futile,
but bulging veins have secrets to tell
I'd like to cut them open and see what they
might spill
I am crawling out of my skin
I am prone to violent whims
as sharp as the stars above
and honed for times like these
Am I a vulture or a dove?
Do I crave the blood that runs free from gaping wounds?
Or will I fall back down to the frozen ground
bruised and broken and screaming for air?
Stephanie Smith is a poet
and writer from Scranton, Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in such
publications as THE HORROR ZINE, CARNAGE HOUSE, APHELION, RAVEN CAGE, THE
LITERARY HATCHET, and ILLUMEN.
