The Cryptid
The cryptid feeds on the bark of a dead tree,
reveals the boned limbs beneath.
The mouth of the cryptid is a bracelet of teeth.
The cryptid waits patiently for your wrist.
Drinks blood thinking it wine,
drinks wine thinking it dreams.
Its eyes are tattooed globes.
The cryptid sees through a thousand eyes hidden by fur.
The cryptid watches by not watching.
Merges with wolves in the night to create one wise animal.
The cryptid knows your name.
Knows how to drive your car but chooses not to.
The cryptid carves its own name in discarded mason jars.
Drinks water.
Spits kerosene.
Feels its fur lift near electrical towers.
Knows how to see through thick vine.
The cryptid is vine, wolves are leaf.
The cryptid feeds off one rat, then frees the other.
Its own rationale will suffice.
The cryptid doesn’t want you asking its rationale.
The cryptid knows how to tattoo.
The name of its mother is tattooed along a hind leg.
Wishes its fangs were jewelry to wear like a collar.
Waits for you to light a fire.
Will light a fire if you don’t.
The cryptid has seen a human size spider.
Has seen a hawk with a human face.
The cryptid sees a wolf reflected in your kitchen window.
Believes humans are a hallucination.
The cryptid will eat us all because we are not real.
Believes devouring the illusion will free itself.
Will keep you locked in your homes.
The cryptid is right, believes the vision.
Keeps time by your footsteps at morning coffee.
Wolves are the vision, you are the alarm clock.
The cryptid has your skin beneath its fur.
The cryptid is fur, the cryptid is bone.
The cryptid will sharpen its teeth on your bones.
Never realizing they are its own.
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
The Loons
I paid a token to see
the bottom of the lake
and now it is empty.
The lake is a crater now.
There is a vault
at the lake’s floor.
At night, a crowd smokes
cigarettes, the red dots
from a distance wait for water.
I stand on the vault
and sing. All songs from inside
the lake’s ear are national anthems.
Two loons looking
for the lake’s water cough
up coins at my feet.
The voices from land shout
in unison that I’m holding
back the water.
I apologize to eyeless
faces, birds attempting
to sing but strangled.