The Scream

The scream

in my lungs. Turns

over in sleep.

The world peers at it

looking for a soft spot to prod

Here! And here and there

with sharp sticks.

I feel it stir, rumbling

and hold my mouth shut

- Hoping it will settle -

But the poke, poke, pokes

keep coming

And the beast slides along

my muscles. Deep under my skin

Hauling a tempest with it.

It breaths fire -

my skin heats with it. Red

all over. Its claws of bone

pierce through; skeletal pauldrons

on my shoulder.

Panic swirls - pushing

to keep the beast down.

It breaks through,

curls its claws on my shoulder

surging up -

into my throat;

and the scream rings

out into the air.