He Listens

He tilts his head upward Footfalls slapping against icy pavement and cracked concrete His eyes open against the weight of an empty sky That pulls at branches bare, rattling without the clap of leaves The cold cuts sharply through the clouds Through his jacket and through his bones Through the very sun itself Slinking behind…

Always Watching

I felt them on the back of my neck Icy eyes with dangling fingers Scraping just above the skin Pulling at the fine hairs I stop And turn my head Feet still planted Narrowing my eyes The porch void of any human gaze I turn back, slowly, scratching at the back of my neck Gravel…