Being the hybrids that we are, neither
fully prey nor fully predator, we make
our rounds each night, closing windows
and locking doors.
We are more like hyenas and jackals—
opportunists, who understand the mind
of the night stalkers, like the wind’s despair
and the moon’s silent wails.
Each shuttering of our world is one more
denial, yet also one more assurance
that we may wake in the morning,
unscathed.
We do not want the stars’ mysteries falling
upon our dreams, either. We wish to be secure
that when our nightmares begin, they are
constrained to what we can handle and that they
are only ever what we deserve.
