A line coils on
the tip of its tongue
behind the fangs—
but really,
no teeth but the dark.
Each night drinks and drains
a little more until another one
passes and I’ve still not finished
this poem for you.
I won’t live too long—
unless bit. Burden me with that
so I can nibble back.
We weaken,
necks bent
toward the dawn.
Aaron Sandberg has appeared or is forthcoming in Asimov’s, No Contact, Alien Magazine, The Shore, The Offing, Sporklet, Right Hand Pointing, Halfway Down the Stairs, Crow & Cross Keys, Burningword Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. A multiple Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, you can see him—and his poetry posts—on Instagram @aarondsandberg.