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  Cover Issue 4 THE TINY PIECE


Floating weightless


In the cool, night sky


My lengthy inventory


Of concern


Put to bed


For this one day


When I feel them all around me


Hiding in the clouds


“They’re here again,”


I whisper hoarsely to myself


My skin begins to crawl


In welcome


I’ve known their touch before


My mouth is wide and gaping


My hands grasping wildly


For some solidity


Some purchase


Then they are on me


And there is nothing I can do


They are liquid ebony


Both in body and in soul


As I sink


Into their quicksand


I feel their skin


Become my own


Wrapped in this airless shroud


My lonely, silent scream


Is shoved back down my throat


Directed deep inside


A rant of condemnation


To taunt myself forever


Somewhere in my dark heart


I must have wanted this


What other reason


Could there be


For allowing it to happen?


They gather up


The tiny piece of me


That they need


For their collection


They’ll be back.




David Rutter is a Los Angeles based writer of poetry, theater and fiction. He has been published previously by Haggard and Halloo, Subliminal Interiors Magazine and Wilderness House Literary Review. He is not working on a screenplay. He and his wife enjoy traveling to remote parts of the globe.

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