Courtney Hooper
vulture-vermin at the violet hour, when your eyes turn to me like a vulture preying, i hear your voice like sawdust spraying off the back of the blades. you’re making your way towards me i duck. i run. i put the distance between us. it’s never for pleasure— this game of chess where no one’s the winner. your slurred words call out for one more moment but i know, i know… at the violet hour, when i let you in again, your chainsaw talons on my skin. my breath sparks like a shower, mid-july, the tarot tower— every city falls to ashes. and they tell me it’s just your temperament frigid and burning. you leave me turning in circles, creating a story out of silence: i pretend you love me. at the violet hour when the cars pull up the drive, i see your truck shudder your lazuli eyes to follow. i know you’ll fill me again or leave me hollow. a vermin on the roadside to do with as you wish.
athena’s web
21
Spring/Summer 2018