
For Clancy
Death didn’t look how I imagined he would.

Death didn’t look how I imagined he would.

Nine dragons perched on nine towers, chained.

A clockwork heart sat abandoned, missing its gears.

Silhouetted against the darkening horizon, a hand reaches.

A fairy tale meet cute in less than 150 words

If every heartbeat is a kickdrum…

“It is time,” Sun says.
Again? I almost sigh; it’s pointless. I trudge towards the horizon, harpoon in hand.

The reflection shatters into a thousand shards, resplendent, subversive, cutting edges catching light.