Monica Zeringue

She says they come at night… by Mahtem Shiferraw

She says they come at night…quick and quiet,
like diligent thieves. They take things, small
small things, tuck them deep into
their pockets, roll them like socks, cup
their palms against the warm cloth to
feel certainty.

How do they know?
They lurk; each home has its own devil.
They smell, sucked air, thin air, empty air.
They probe, curved swallows, thickening fear.
I say they must come at night.
She says they do.

I say I already hear them, their footsteps a faint
forking of carpet hairs. She says their silence is
deafening. But I do hear them.
She says there is no quietness in me.
I think that’s a good thing.

Firstborn sons were killed on a quiet night,
like any other.
I say diligent thieves get only
what they came for.
She says they do.
Come and get. Only the ones
submerged into the night.

The ones rattling as if they were
discomforted, as if they did not
belong there. Quick and quiet.
Taken. Like small things. Small
small things. Lolled and rolled.

More art by Monica Zeringue can be found here.

Recommended listening: Oshin – DIIV

Link of the day: 15 cynical minimalistic illustrations that reflect our times


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