Electric Windmill Issue No. 006 - Electric Windmill Press

152by Owen LucasEliot breathed in the lightOf cold, out-thrown stars, satAt the foot of the dropoffUnder the dim hillside.His leg was losing itsSensation, but he would notGet up and go backInto the unlit yard and the houseWhere his brother andHis mother and his fatherWere asleep and dreaming inTheir beds. His thought wentOut of him like a cataractInto a frameless space whereDim fires danced. The lightOf his thought swung inThe dark as if affixedTo a centrifuge. He couldFeel the motion of it andHe felt sick, and the earthWas growing cold under him.At the near edge of theWood, motionless, bare ash treesWove their silhouettes intoThe belly of the starbowl.He began to fall asleep butHe shook himself awake andWent silently back into theGreying yard and the houseAnd crawled into his bed.21