David Arroyo

Trois Poesies

 

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Opening Move

After The Hand by Dorothy Porter 

 

The Mask 

glowed silver 

under the weight 

of a heavy 

full

moon.

 

Professor R.K. Augur

knelt inside the halo

of scorched earth,

reaching 

for the fallen star

with a gray 

Isotoner glove.

 

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The Mask Was Cool To the Touch As

 

the eye sockets 

smoked frigid plumes

that smelled

like dry ice.

 

The design and shape

a pronged pitchfork

reminiscent of the

Ultimate Warrior.

 

Augur removed the right

glove with his teeth

paying no mind 

to the frost in his beard

or his numbing nose

on this cold Maine night.

 

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Ascension

 

Augur

cut his bare thumb 

on the mask’s 

curved edge.

 

A single drop of blood 

froze on the ground,

while snowflakes

clung to his crow’s feet.

 

As a funhouse visage

slid across the surface,

steel grey eyes peered 

into the mask,

as when they peered 

into the hopes and dreams

of his students 

when they submitted 

a story or poem.

 

His stare a meditative state one half 

critical empathy, one half

vivisection.

 

He put on the mask

and a song sprouted 

If ... , then….

 

R.K. Augur vanished under the moon’s 

wide awake eye. 

His car, still running, 

a poor substitute for a corpse. 

 

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David Arroyo loves horror films and verse novels. He’s taught university in North America and Asia. He’s been published in Stirring, Silver Blade, The Horrorzine, and, now, DM.

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