Moonlit snow jars against the black abyss of sky; blind light searing reticules in my mind; there is nowhere to run: It has my scent and sniffs with macabre desire my clenched heart; every pore leaks fear, those particles entering the beasts nostrils like honeyed perfume. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and only one round in the chamber of excruciating hope. Nowhere to run when those eyes full of hate (that suck even the heat from ice), bore into my skull; its worm tongue lolls from jagged snout: anticipates the taste of urine soaking my fatigues. Nowhere to run, rooted to the ground like a carbonized tree following nuclear detonation.
It’s near.
I feel it.
I smell its mucus and
musk and
venom. Nowhere to run
But
Tears fall. It’s out there, hunting
me. Tears become
the ink to write
things
I cannot