My flesh radiating green, a migraine
of shop lights hung carelessly
while I borne along the corridor
caressing the device that held
the Voice, a falsetto whisper,
calming, breaking the turbulent
waves of taunting, sickly children
into a foaming mass at my feet.

I stood      the door     a knock     opening

The Voice, before me, a hushed vibrato
that reverberated over shadow
feminine in shape, dark
as a deep crevasse of snickering,
berating little ones climbing
over each other to get at me.

My hand, clenched tightly
around the shape of my
deliverance.
A black device,
smooth, hard,
lightly textured.

2.
It stopped me in an alley under an elm tree
trapped between two carports.
The wailing chorus of spindly demons
took a breath,          a caesura.
In came, ascending, a high clear sound
a vocal note, over the collective gasp
a voice speaking out over the murmuring

It beckoned me
and I went, compelled.

3.
I am           grasping
glasses of drink at various parties
hands of strangers staring,
lips spitting and throats
constricting
all the while, food
consumed in obscene amounts
until gaseous buildup releases
a collective vomit of detritus
exploding in technicolor sweat.
I       finger       it
this smooth black device
warm and pulsating.

It breathes soothingly into my mind.

4.
I can still hear
the humming of the hall
as she moans automatically
beneath me, sweaty, smelly, rutting
all the while,  one voice
breathes upon my brain, burning
direction into my hands, squeezing
tightly that device, enabling release.

5.
Silence of a whore strewn
on a dirty mattress, sullen
while flies swirled about me.

The dust, suddenly, screaming
off the walls as the door rocked
with rage.

And there was no voice,
no chanting, no direction
as I sat
startling clarity
of a wren, broken under an elm
and a garage clicker, lost
to its owner, in my hands
and here, I raise them, pressing
firmly to release the raging bull
splintering to get in,
to me.

© Jae Ming Jue, 2010