They hang heavy,
those dark army-green blankets I've got draped over the windows for secrecy.
The greasy smoke curling from my chimney as I prepare an obscene night-mammal gumbo with tree bark & mushroom broth.
The three AM rustlings in the backyard shed. Ohhh, the rustlings in the back yard shed.
The low, quivering echo like a violin string trilled from the bottom of a deep well.
"Sally Mariah..." a piping sigh...
My fingernails are long.
"Sally Mareeeeee-ahhhh..." a whistling culling summons voice...
My hair strings down.