One by One

Twilight drips
into the hollow of my palm,
curling under my nails,
charring my hands,
obsidian marbles,
strung on a ray of soft sunlight,
running down my fingers,
one by one,
counting my prayers;

beyond that swaying belt of trees,
a row of crows,
a silent vigil,
perhaps just empty silhouettes
pasted on the cardboard air,
the birds long gone;
my frozen feet hurry,
one by one,
chasing my prayers.

the lid of the night
closes over the
open sores of the earth,
the seeping pus gleams
in the last red thread of sunset,
then from its muddy throat
come the screams,
one by one,
taunting my prayers.