Air, sucking in
rosy cheeks
cigarette smoke –

thin slices
of nicotine
shaved off,

the blades of sirocco
that gleam
at the quick.


Blue undulates
over criss-crossed

that lighten
and darken:

negative signals
pressed onto
fluorescent screens,

sans the
creepy-crawly hand
to bring back
Friday the 13th.


Crickets thrill
as she tucks away
into the hollows of her
duvet-drenched abode,

tiny ice picks
that dig

by shoving
the sharpened points

into the glacier’s heart
of the deep night.

© Zelda Reville


2 thoughts on “Nyx

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