The Weird Moth Thing Sitting Vertically On My Wall

• Max Bradley-McFawn, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2022

yellow poles stand tall, straight, and still,
here I come, here I come
but they are not quiet
their mouths contort, screech, and howl at the blueish grey floor below
the floor cowers behind the cover of the black framed windows above,
but the poles do not stop screeching
they only grow louder,
here I come, here I come
hands white knuckle a pole
calluses coat their rough lines and indents
every shriek and groan only grows more insane,
reflections bounce off the black framed windows
they come as far as the edge of my kopfkino,
but are only black and grey swirling infinitely
through the door, and out I fall
here I come, here I come