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subversion
vomit crabs skitter skutter.
up from drainpipes.
claws twisting, testing, reaching . . .
cold water dripping, drapping.
slicking the walls.
creatures scurry into vague periphery:
a premonition of something much worse.
bare feet sloshing in dingy puddles
in basements and strange bathrooms.
a steady tapping somewhere indescribable.
a phone call unreturned;
red light blinking, futile, in an empty room.
a box of used-up light bulbs.
a voice from upstairs, urgent
but muffled incoherent through the walls.
a box of wet matches.
armies of tiny legs, moving, in the dark.
tarps are thrown down hastily, rocks hold down the corners
though everyone hears the leaking, licking.
precautions are useless.
while, below, gains are made against us.
-By Jeremy David Goodwin
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