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Hellhounds!* Who be this stranger?
Here she dreams upon my pillow,
I slide away out of range,
Spaces between us sheets weeping willows.

Staring down at shouted words escaping through barred teeth,
She, unknown malice, hissed sparks,
Upon my bed I see a sleeping leech,
Her skin so silvery filled with shady dark.

I reach over confused and touch her shoulder,
Know not I who this creature be?
Flashes explode, memories and desires colder,
****** lady! I fear I may know thee!

Peering closer still, I witness a face on her slender neck,
Biting softly the flesh of arguments,
Distances separate short spaces, we two are shackled
By more than mere blankets and entwined garments.

Fingers heavily encircled with golden evidence,
Pregnant spite spirals spoonfuls of fire,
Her reptilian eye flutters, I crawl back with revulsion,
Accusations, pointed fists, secrets buried, she’s a fiery liar.

I don’t recognize the bloated face,
She turns over, stares balefully and clenches with disgust,
God, she reads me, I’m a shadow without trace,
I’m alone, a child hunting for tattered trust.

Finally the nightmare reaches a foggy ******,
I see the familiar blade furrows in her spidery hair,
Falling into the damp smell of the pillow I relax,
She’s my wife, a solitary maid my mind will never share.



©Rangzeb Hussain
When she turned her gaze upon me,
I was a mote of dust
caught in a beam of sunlight
I was huge and beautiful
and bright.

I laughed and danced
and shone.

And when she turned away,
a cloud moved across the sun
and I was extinguished.
Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

— The End —