In a church parking lot, black
with sticky new tar and irony, It found
the weak spaces and clawed its way in.
At first, flames tore from my ragged throat,
fangs snapped for an ear of justice-
but it wisened up and cloaked itself instead
with the tenor of my voice, the stale smell of my fear.
Invisible bones settled into my soul.
My shoulders are strengthened to bear this burden.
Oh, the threads we spin and cling to
while the parasites…


