by Robert Feldman
two alleycats sprang from their overhanging courtyard perch,
startling
the broken glass predawn midst,
interrupting
the occasional moans from a half-open 4th floor window,
astonishing the quietude,
but not my tell-tale heart
busy pounding loudly enough to signal the dead
for it was that distinct odor
emanating from a wooden cellar door
across from where I crouched,
grey paint flakes
chips and gouges defining its age,
and its pathetic groans
when the wind disturbed its constant corpse-like existence
some alien set of lungs hungering to resuscitate-
this sentient entity
masquerading as a hopeful opening,
this portal phantasmagorical
red teary eyed,
serenely seeking out yet another victim to yank inward,
heartbeat and all,
disguising hidden floors below,
the creaking now gesturing to me,
another psudosentient creature to feed from
to embrace its greedy hunger,
to drink deeply its severity
regarding those blood eyes of the emasculated hunter,
my defenseless eyes
involuntarily shut,
debating its offer of immortality,
the door opening,
the door closing,
prisoner subtly hijacked
blown invisible by some historic breath
other jackknifed nights,
me, the sentient breathless,
my image apparent
now obvious to other predatory eyes
greedily cowering among the debris,
lingering,
satiated by sanguinary centuries,
gorged with expectations,
my life irrelevant
its life relevant,
mere blood merging through this slight crack in the world,
comprised of man and phantom stalking each other
through wicked
skeletal grey doors
of polluted perception