Banshee

 

She calls death one at a time

And only she can do this

How many of her kind

Might number all the realms

She does not know

She cannot

The grammar is of one, no

More

No more can exist at a

Time

 

There is no plural here, for only she

Can split the night

A responsibility of one, and then

Not even that

She folds into time until

Her nature is invoked again

To rend the cloth

To terrify even the somber parts

Of night

Dawn becomes mortality

 

All this is hers

 

C L Couch

 

 

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