Literature
Twin Souls
the dead are poking their heads out of their graves,
throwing glances before they focus on their master.
he is standing there,
motionless over the well,
as if he’s thinking.
risen water only ever means one thing—souls have been captured.
he glides his fingers along the surface of carved stone,
halts until he reaches the very top.
white, black—
yin and yang, clashing.
his palm presses into ancient texture,
as fog begins to fall.
these miserable creatures
he is about to retreat,
roam around restless corpses—
Master,
Have you forgotten your duties?
the little one asks, swinging her feet on the tombstone she’s sitting on.
Grim freezes.
then,
smears the fog for the one he cherishes.
time for business
he reaches in,
pulls—
bitten, scratched,
some of these conniving menaces even kick!
the well is nearing empty,
two more plucks before the next eternity.
as he’s about to dive in,
his bones clack.
there’s something magnetic in the water
the dead lean in,
mouths ajar,
eyes
