Shadow Street

I am walking dim, uncharted territory, a long, long street where doors are coffin lids and the inside of shrouded windows are wreathed with black roses. I paddle in my own piss longing for dry land, drained, and suspicious of the stillness feeling numb, praying that my brain will end. Rigor closes my sagging jaw. Teeth clenched, I see ahead arid land, not quite barren, not quite dead. There, in sight, Hells grinning signpost... directing the unknown. I turn my head. Nobody's there. I am alone. Sally Plumb