Quickens the reaper from Yith

That horror with teeth gnashing

The reaper of Yith swoons toward the sun

a damnable fool with stringy eyes

and no ears

Hearing the waste call from the salt

the pan of drying eyelids wavers

and heat rises from the room

desert heat, blubbering

screaming

the time machine,

the clock ticks on

a single litany to the disease

the festering canine face

of the thing

The thing from outside

tall and thin and unmoving

but with the hint, the smile and laugh

of quick motion when you turn your back

when you smile and look away

This statue breaths

egyptian breath

tomb breath

sand breath

breathing from a thousand miles away

and a thousand years ago

breathing

The reaper from Yith came

and went

and left a footstep in the snow

to melt and disappear

until next winter