the drill, the drill!
an ear-piercing whir
awakens the town.
most of the grains
run into the street
screaming, panicking.
some take shelter
in their basements
with their weeping
wives and two children
but they all know
that they're not safe
down there.
the drill, the drill!
frightened eyes dart
between the woman,
the light on her head,
the ceiling, the map
of the united states
on the right wall,
the garland above
the window, the
barren trees outside,
the doorway on the
left, escape so close
but so far away.
the drill, the drill!
impact is made,
buildings collapse and
the grains on the
street either curl
up like fetuses or
close their eyes and
look up with their
arms outstretched but
none of them have
time to scream before
their brains are
annihilated and their
bones are ground
into white powder.
25% done.
the drill, the drill!
cold air blows on
the gums and then
there is a sharp pain
as if the nerves are
being pinched, the
eyes squint at
the woman with
her light and
her uncaring eyes,
the bottom jaw
moves up a little
bit, the body wants
to bite down and
force the pain out
but the brain knows
better than that.
50% done.
the drill, the drill!
the powder is
caught in a tornado
of sharp edges and
whirring and pain
and is flung off
the street and onto
the coat shoulders.
75% done.
the drill, the drill!
their cries silenced
by the whirring,
a million ghosts
seize control of my
body after i am
out of the office
and make themselves
heard all at once:
ow, fuck!