watch the samurai:

hordes gather on the horizon

and she waits,

sharpening her sword.



demons gather. the horizon

is black with them.



i have been watching their shadows

for months.



but they are far off still,

and the moon not yet risen.

i sharpen my sword. fear

against fear, learning which

is harder by which

breaks first. silence



invites them closer.

i will invite them closer.



i will drop my armor:

comfort born of habit,

passion born of need.



the slick of sharp edges

metronomes my heart:



fear of alone

against fear of death;

fear of flesh against

fear of vacuum.



i crouch in the darkness,

swaying. they will come.