Everything here talks back to me in
blacks and whites. Everyone is
wearing long coats. There is a giant
clock with letters instead of numbers.
The numbers have no meaning here
and have entered a dark tunnel
bidding no farewells. Silver and blue
and laureled, the children activate the
backs of their heads, only their
backs, showing like wings of dark
birds flying away. They walk
forwards and backwards at the same
time. This is an underground thatch
with an entire city running like a
prison through its walls and veins,
but everything here is forgotten by
someone. A shadowdog ghosts this
burning landscape until it Goes Out.
Shadowdog Catches the Number
Adam Jon Miller graduated from the University of Kansas with a BA in English and an Emphasis in Creative Writing. Adam’s poetry was recently included in the William & Mary Review, OxMag, In Parentheses, and The Dewdrop. His photography has been included in various literary journals. He scribes brew narratives for Idyll Hounds Brewery. Visit him and his work anytime at www.adamjonmiller.com.