SUBSCRIBEWHEN THE FIRST HAND CUPPED IN by Kristine Ong Muslim
posted January 7, 2008 under Poetry
Tags: poem
Daylight was the first to flicker.
The air was subsequently thinned;
we gasped–each breath more
labored than the one before it.
The night birds swooped in.
Their beaks pierced twilight,
and the children picked up the pieces
of torn fabric, thinking that those were
playthings from the sky.
Our artificial light sources threatened
to burn out. The door hinges rusted
while the sound of footfalls thudded
from vacant lots and abandoned houses.
On the streets, manhole covers
popped out. Then we heard the
galloping of the strange horses from afar.
—-
More than 500 of Kristine Ong Muslim’s poems and stories have appeared or are forthcoming in over 200
publications worldwide. Her work has appeared in Abyss, Apex, Cemetery Moon, Down in the Cellar, Kaleidotrope, Niteblade, Not One of Us, OG’s, Speculative Fiction, Sounds of the Night, Sybil’s Garage, and Tales of the Talisman. She is a two-time winner of Sam’s Dot Publishing’s James Award for genre
poetry.
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I get the mood but I couldn’t decipher the ending. After such a long siege, are they finally to die now that their metal barriers are rusting…or has help finally come? On horse?
Or are the horses without riders? Or are there zombie horses?
Comment by Mercurial Georgia — January 19, 2008 @ 7:03 pm