Sarah Capella Smith
Here, it is like the Dust Bowl, a black hole,
Dreams snuffed from a candle with an exhuasted flame.
Blood beats like a curse, a strange fear -
The sheets! The sheets! Twice through. There are two
Eyes selling sanity to the stars.
Pretty and full of wishes they vanish.
Smiles in the dark, hot breath and heartbeats
Infuriate its ebony host, this opaque ghost, which
Unfolds from the wings of a furious magpie, itching for sleep.