The Stalks
By Nicholas De Marino
The stalks. The growl of stalks.
The pounding of heart against rib.
The shallow gasps of flight. The stamp and squish. The suck of mud, closer, closer.
The crackle of reeds giving way, giving away egress. The weight of shambling, dogged steps.
The crunch of collapse. The whisper of dry-mouthed prayers into undergrowth.
The final tear. The crinkle, cruckle of a miracle. The terrible brilliance of fruit. The hiss and grasp of twisting tendrils.
The wet pop of stubborn, bitter bones.
The pounding of heart against rib.
The silence.
The sound of a smile.
The stalks. The susurrus of stalks.
Nicholas De Marino needs a hug. Poetry in Dreams & Nightmares and Horrific Scribblings. Fiction in BULL and Hell Itself. Read his monthly column (fnord) in foofaraw. ¡Viva SFPA y Codex! No awards but some nominations. More at nicholasdemarino.blogspot.com.