There are uncertainties traversing our unknowns

despite the trolls we’ve ostracized under the bridge

of our relationships. These ogres contemplate

us from the abutments of our past: how and when

and where to snatch us by our limbs. At night when we

are drifting down to sleep we glimpse the glistening

of their red tethered eyes reflecting off the walls.

It’s not the gentle cycle of our snores we feel

but their hot breaths in the pulsing of blinking lights.

On Sunday afternoons when the lazy sparrows of

our lives should linger on our beds, it’s not the flutter

of wings echoing through the heavy air, but the gobbling

of feathers, the chewing of bones, the slow grind of dull teeth,

the grunts below our naked feet splintered by the crossing.


Aden Thomas



Aden Thomas lives in Laramie, Wyoming. His work has been featured in Dressing Room Poetry Journal, The Common Ground Review, and The San Pedro River Review.

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