I N V I S I B L E . S I L K

on

Outhouse Confession


Whilst crouching
Eyes dart wildly
As flies buzz
Near her perineum

They burrow as
A scream halts
Her body stills
A shadow passes

Stopping to sniff
Her terror bouquet
Niche charm lifts
A predators wings

“Have you paper?”
The drapes echoed
“None,” she cried
Inking her tears

Into eremite larvae