when the hands
on the clock move
to stop time
the earth becomes a wild thing,

when the humans slip
from their skin
imagine giants waking from
slumber:
(because they did, and they do)

when they shake the trees,
in the distance
here is the twist and scream
of faeries molting their
imprisonments:
they have come
for more blood
than we have left
in broken bones

when it takes hold,
raise the city
lurking beneath
cracked subway lines,
under the skin
and in the veins of the dreamers,
raise the city that sits
placid in the heads of thinkers,
that holds lies
woven between strangers
tying them together, taking us apart

when we raise the city
where
dark things slip through
small places
it will be
a kind world