Slivers of Necessity

He made a choice
to leave.

He walks with suitcase
on a lead, battered
muddy, frayed airline
barcode still stuck to its handle.

He avoids the biggest potholes
on the road, an avenue
of once-belching factories
now brownfields.

The half-light of the evening,
whispers, ‘find a corner
before it’s too late
draw paper shutters tight’.

Slivers of necessity
push upon his temple.

Snails slither horns erect,
a patch of mustard weed
delicious evening meal
he stops to watch.

He remembers frenzied soldiers
on a spiral staircase.

A stone by a drain grows
four feet and a reptile head,
he shakes his head in disbelief,
listens for the angry wolf.

He trips into a slimy pothole,
hears the lullaby of frogs.

Through a crack crowned
with razor wire, he edges
careful not to break his skin;
a door half open beckons.

Necessity’s bounty provides
refuge for the night.

For

Open Link Night – Week 9