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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