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    WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

    WHEN THE FIRST HAND CUPPED IN by Kristine Ong Muslim
    January 7, 2008  Poetry   Tags: ,   

    Daylight was the first to flicker.
    The air was subsequently thinned;
    we gasped–each breath more
    labored than the one before it.

    The night birds swooped in.
    Their beaks pierced twilight,
    and the children picked up the pieces
    of torn fabric, thinking that those were
    playthings from the sky.

    Our artificial light sources threatened
    to burn out. The door hinges rusted
    while the sound of footfalls thudded
    from vacant lots and abandoned houses.

    On the streets, manhole covers
    popped out. Then we heard the
    galloping of the strange horses from afar.

    —-

    More than 500 of Kristine Ong Muslim’s poems and stories have appeared or are forthcoming in over 200
    publications worldwide. Her work has appeared in Abyss, Apex, Cemetery Moon, Down in the Cellar, Kaleidotrope, Niteblade, Not One of Us, OG’s, Speculative Fiction, Sounds of the Night, Sybil’s Garage, and Tales of the Talisman. She is a two-time winner of Sam’s Dot Publishing’s James Award for genre
    poetry.

    1 Comment

    1. I get the mood but I couldn’t decipher the ending. After such a long siege, are they finally to die now that their metal barriers are rusting…or has help finally come? On horse?

      Or are the horses without riders? Or are there zombie horses?

      Comment by Mercurial Georgia on January 19, 2008 @ 7:03 pm

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