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The Clay Man

Steve Kowis

 

I see you outside my window.

A splash of black clay in the darkness

molded by countless hands.

You are all colors together.

All fears and suppressed memories

squeezed empty of remorse.

I hear you outside my door.

A hundred shuffling footsteps in the dust

moving across still waters like the fog.

One will, whispering moistly with many voices,

yet unheard by any save me.

I feel you under my feet.

A tremble in the black earth.

A thousand fingers pressing towards me,

grasping in the heavy darkness,

driven mad by the throbbing pulse in my veins.

I know you.

You have been here before.

come in and sit down.  Let me pour you a drink.

You’ve come for my company once again.