monster

I feel his vibration as if a boeing cleaved the top floor bare
as I slept naked on the basement couch; pillars shiver, crumbs
dust my upturned visage. Exclamation erupts like puffs
of thought cloud, and how funny my speech sounds,
tinny in my own ear, veiling fears thinly as echoes. My voice,
a ghost's, screams translucent octaves that gurgle something
wicked with the texture of raw honey, the texture of sandy feet
fresh drowned by lakeside, still, wrinkled, rotting.
His approach clamps muddy fingers tight to windpipe.
Last breath ejects from throat, phlegmy; final hopes
of survival exhaled like smoke. There are no tears, no lip
ever trembles, but brown eyes close and I in reverie remain,
calculate, deadpan, that I'll never taste snowflakes again,
or in another January, learn to love a vegetarian.