Amanda Hare (30.7.06)

FOR WANT OF A STORM

- Amanda Hare

Weary candles burn in tiny windows. Night hunkers a little bit more in the humidity and remains still. The house remains still. I remain still and watch, only revolving a hand to fan a buzzing mosquito. My only live, droning companions in the night almost finish stabbing through the dirt. I burn up with pain, hunkered in it, weary in remaining still every night since my lovely sleeping companion has remained in the dirt.
My revenge is almost finished. Just revenge, I tell myself. Every fan will still and every eye focus to watch my lovely companion shining in a pool of light. Every hand and fan will buzz words. My eyes tear, focusing on the candles shining through the windows of the still house. My revenge is almost finished.
Stabbing, stabbing stabbing through the dirt. A tiny pool of dirt. Just a little bit more dirt remains. Just a little remains. Just remains. Tears hunker in my eyes, just a tiny word. Remains. Remains I am focused on. The remains of a live companion whose tiny hands focus up through the dirt. My lovely companion remains wearily in the dirt, not long since stilled with sleep. I will watch my companion finish with sleep. Words will shine through my companion, burning up my weariness. I will watch my companion’s tiny hands focusing on the house, focus on the candles.
The night will stab a candle through my companion. My eyes will tear and focus, burnt when the light has forced my companion to words. Live. Live, I tell myself.
I hunker and watch. My revenge is almost finished. My lovely companion, long since stilled with sleep, live. I focus down through the dirt. Almost finished my lovely companion. Almost.


Words added: will, dirt, lovely