All the Other Nights are Darker
If the doors would open, if hands would relinquish sweet baubles of mercy to ward this child against evil, then the hungry ghosts, the wolves dressed up as humans, could be chased back to their lairs by the candy of my breath. For tonight. They know that tasting this sweetness requires less, requires patience: razor blades concealed in absence of apples, growling that emerges from below the throat. All the other nights will be enough time, they promise, for me to learn the lessons of silence. To learn what it takes to not be a skeleton.
Mouths yearn to be filled,
tongues to writhe, bodies to yield
to savoring flesh.
This haibun was first published in Unbroken Journal, Issue 11 (2016).
Chad Musick is a mathematician and editor/writer who lives in Japan with his family. He lectures professionally about grammar rules and then breaks them freely when it suits him. He tweets jointly with his wife @TheMusicks.