Brave New World: I

The curtains quake in a fine, cold breeze.
The great pearl of the moon lights the shadows.

A child, sat awake, clutches a splintering stake
to a chest rising and falling in gusts.

Teddy bears stare, gormless, into night, quiet still
but the murmurs outside gather nearer.

She’s a warrior now; sweat gathered on brow,
though her senses are taught and enflamed.

The cat mews and flees and the crunching of leaves
betrays a thunderous footfall outside.

She climbs to her feet, her heart stuck on repeat,
stake raised and teeth clenched near to breaking.

With a roar and a leap, the beast emerges, she screams
and they collide in a mess of endeavour.



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