Books keep my secrets

Hushed scratch of pen

Kerosene flickering beside

These walls contain my blood

Ink and time

Sharp lines form intent

I add more resin to the charcoal

Smoke curling as blood ignites

I stop a moment

Tip tapping something

Typewriter slap clack bright

Words powerful enough to bend

Maybe break something too

The universe reverberates

Down into my bones

A silk hand rests upon my shoulder

Beak clacks

Antlers brush the air above

Our work is right

And good

 

It is necessary

Therefore

It is possible