Eyes coming in as bats
From an awakening
Tower. But they are
Not bats; night isn’t
Gathering across
His skin. He is there
In his bathroom, pinned
To his own gaze.
He’s lost the name
Of each ghostly day.
This hour could have been
From a previous month.
But it’s not worth mentioning.
He’s just another, a face
Tucked into home
Until summoned again.
There are no broken men,
Just a duty. He disappears
From his gaze which scatters
To the belly of a tower.

Written for Day 3 of 13 Days of Samhain and for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt.

5 thoughts on “Worker

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