images.jpeg pills

They hide in dark places
ready to strike from beneath
dirty brown bottles.

Nightmares that slither
from graves of bone
will not leave well alone.

Ask any patient, ask any prey,
about what is large,
about who is small.

Rattlers coil around on ground
with a tale they do not tell.
Hello cup. Take it away.

Who gave someone a pill to kill?
A place called hope? Drink up.
Why are there so many pills to take,

so many snakes to rattle?
Count them out in candy colors.
Swallow them down in numbers prime.

Play the music of survival. Try.
Shake those pills like tambourines.
Rhythm maracas to tarnished shrines.

Events follow in odd sequence.
Three five seven eleven thirteen,
infinite reasons to inject venom,

reasons to digest the rats,
reasons to shed torn skins,
reasons for rain to beat skylights,

reasons to avoid forgiving sins.
Shake the seeded drum.
Take away the poison.


~ by dianeklammer on February 20, 2013.

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