Dawn

They were eaten by the Earth,
and fell down its rocky throat
with all the walls made out of blades
uncleanly sharp.
Without a single source of light
the injured could not see their
broken limbs and the echoes
of their screams filled up the cave.

She painted all her windows black
sitting in a rocking chair. The wooden
floor was cold beneath her feet.
After finding a baseball bat in the garage
she knocked the file cabinet on its side
and clubbed until it opened wide.
She spread out all the papers on floor.

Passed out on a city bench, pressure
like an ocean trench. The headache
takes up every waking thought.
The sun is at a middle point
half red on the horizon.
From a passing car you hear
a nothing song. You try to read
your broken watch, you aren’t sure
if its dusk or not, but the way it looks
reminds you of the dawn.