out in the dogshit yard
under a glowering sky
in a stinking, gritty wind

no moon
no stars

hell is a cheap knock-off

stepping barefoot
in the slimy pitch blackness

sharp things

no visible path

demonic muttering
and no discernible words

need and spite

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

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