Banshee-girl

Banshees scream red

Outside my window,

I, a tumbler of 8,

Watch the silence

Of an empty street.

An over-the-counter

Wound is swelling,

Eyes tearing up as

Another torn hole forms

From the pockets

Of pale pink flesh. Gut

Clenches cold and slipp’ry.

The world is black,

This I have learned – the

Remembered ridge of pain

Grows familiar

As the fog-iced glass,

Hardening deep inside.