Overwhelming energy crowds the corner.
Nightmare-blue faces with gaping mouths
and eager eyes grasp our attention,
like neon flashing in a window,
or marauding monsters, eager to eat.
They steal the spotlight, abduct our eyes,
until, unable to look away, we stare.
We scan to satisfy a hidden space that aches
to feel the fracas, longs to view the wreckage
and join the fight. Isn’t there a secret spot
in us all, a place that wants to glimpse
the accident, watch the allure of evil
as it unfolds? Then, in a subtle swivel,
we look up, recognize the reimagined
sunlight, recover our better selves
and breathe a grateful sign of relief,
but we’ll never be able to stop looking.
Bev Fesharaki is an educator/poet. Her work has appeared in various journals including 3Elements Review, Bangalore Review, MORIA, and Typishly. She lives and writes overlooking Possession Bay in Mukilteo, Washington.