A Great Beast, Waking and Stretching

A Great Beast, Waking and Stretching

A Great Beast, Waking and Stretching

A Poem by Holly Day

The squirrels in my yard are erecting a temple to their god                                                         some great, terrifying creature that will someday come down to Earth                                      rends its great, clawed hands through my garden, scattering                                                    fistfuls of tulip and lily bulbs in its wake. At least that’s what I imagine

 

the squirrels are doing                                                                                                                         as they run past my window again and again, carrying fistfuls and mouthfuls                                 of sticks and nuts up into the trees. Or it’s some kind of machine                                         designed to plow through the yard and uproot my house completely                                        some great squirrel bulldozer that will turn the entire block                                                         back into a forest overnight. I can’t be sure what they’re doing, though

 

because they’re squirrels, and while I truly believe                                                                         that we’ve had this rivalry between us for years, there’s a good chance                                       that they don’t really think about me at all.

 

Concrete Jungle

Concrete Jungle

VT&R: Not Your Faggot

VT&R: Not Your Faggot