Dark vapours
Cascade out of the cold, sharp blouse
The linen chafing me
I twitch uneasily and scan the aisles
The masses upon masses
Of unidentifiable shadows
All sombrely marching
Like an army
Destined to fail
Death hangs in the air
Seen in the single magpie
That stares from the grass
Or the black cat
That hovers in my peripheral vision
The lady of the eternal nightmare
We all know attends
And secretly we all wonder
Who she’ll claim next.
-Esther Kearney