when the moment came

 
 
 
 
 
the clouds scream  
with disdain  
 
the walls so bored
they no longer  
close  
in
 
all the dogs
disobedient  
 
Mary Shelley couldn't  
write a horror story  
more real than
now  
 
cross roads
 
cross purposes  
 
cross to bear
 
thoughts eating away at  
streetcars, the books of
Chaucer, eggs benedict  
 
the fool in the mirror looks
back, smiles, and knows
more than God,
 
but less than
the devil