Contributor: Jonah Polivoron

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She picks a bar
Not too dark
Not too loud
Not too crowded
Not too dead.

She picks a person
Man, woman, doesn't matter.
What matters is the clothes
The scent, brand name, expensive
The desperation
The nervousness
The shakes.

She picks a person
She flirts and plays hard to get
Leans in and pulls away
Keeps the quarry guessing
Keeps the drinks flowing

She strikes suddenly
A seductive offer
A night of forbidden pleasure
Leads her quarry to the alleyway
That is her abattoir
That is her cutting room floor
That is her nest
If only for a moment
If only for long enough
To strip her prey
Of everything of value
Leave them mewling in the cold
Leave them whining and wondering
While she cuts cross-country
Her eyes already on another bar
Another alleyway abattoir
In another city
Where she's just another face
Another anonymous face
Looking for an anonymous fix
With another
Anonymous mark.


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Contributor: Jonah Polivoron

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When I cannot sleep
When even a nightmare will do
When even the cold sweat at waking
Means at least
I've had sleep

I go for a walk in the city
I cross streets and alleys
and places where shapes
crouch low in the shadows
and I pray
for those twisting streets
to carry me safely,
safely through the orchards of golden fruit
the breathing cars
the faces I've seen before
but cannot place
to the light
to the dawn
and the bleating of my alarm

and I wonder when I fell asleep
and I wonder if all those shadows
were nothing more than dreams.


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