By Annika Blackburn

Cold, black, dark
Shiny eyes bore through me
White grass encases the stomach
An inverted blue blanket stirs the dotted navy branches
Of the night
Scaly fur in the bright of the darkness
Wooden plastic tints light
Creates the bright

Cold, black, dark
Tinted eyes bore through me
A ghost arises from shiny, blue porcelain
I stare back at him.  

Cold, black, dark
The shiny eyes of the impertinent street garbage bore through me
Crushes the worms of the dirt
The birds of the sky
Shades the light
Creates the bright

Cold, black, dark
A chalky white sky
Scratched by the dotted navy branches.
Stops the light
Creates the bright
I stare back at him