Poems from The Journey to Kailash XIII
Mike Allen / Saturday, April 30th, 2011 / 2 Comments »
The Thirteenth Hell
Her voice in my ear said, look, look. Though I squeezed my eyelids shut, hid my face in my hands, I could still see it. I pressed my fingernails in, hooked my thumbs and pulled, like so many here before. And she said, look, and I could still see it. I crawled to the wall, slammed my head on the stone, found the cracks in the bone and clawed. Her voice in my brain said, look, and I could still see it. I scrabbled at the ground turned soft by my blood, made a hole deep enough to force my head in. She whispered from the earth, look, look, and I could still see it. The mud has swallowed me. Things there feast on what’s left of what I used to be. And she is one of them, her mouth moving in my skull. Look, she breathes, look, and I can still see it. for Laird Barron |
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[…] Russian edition of Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year One, which contains my poem “The Thirteenth Hell.” This is the first time my work has ever been translated. It’s neat to see my name in […]