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Tom's Poetry |
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Sun Demonsin a small South American townshopkeepers locked up their doors with big brass keys and everyone went home at siesta time and slept while the sun-demons laughed and wept, like fire in the village square and along the orchard rows, and mocked the panting strays who barked twice at them before returning exhausted to the shade of banana trees mothers locked their doors against the sun-demons and warned their children not to stir but you could still go out and play with them they would dance with you and whisper dirty secrets in your ear on red-tile roofs in the feverish hours of the sun but you'd best leave before you dance too long or they'll fill their thirst with your body juice and lick your salt with flames your body will join the dust of the square and all that will be left of you will be the sun-demon condemned to dance at the noon hour to rise and shimmer from white-hot stones and suck the sweat from living men (C) 7/18/95 Tom Brinck ACCESSIBILITY FEATURES / SITEMAP / CONTACT |
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Poetry