out in the dogshit yard
under a glowering sky
in a stinking, gritty wind
no moon
no stars
hell is a cheap knock-off
discounted
stepping barefoot
in the slimy pitch blackness
sharp things
contaminated
no visible path
demonic muttering
and no discernible words
need and spite
sweating
prickly, sticky
howling in the desert
for uncountable years
howl in the desert
no one hears you
whistle in the dark
courage in the face of
unseen monstrosities
make your own light
burn your tenderest flesh
things change
faith must be blind
to be faith
By Ursula Anderson
Dood B. Here
J.Martin