another nite cometh

In the tranquil moments of the dusk
before the quails wake and peck on our windows
our iron clad windows, shuttered against the violence
we sit still holding hands
some of us pray
some sing sweet songs remembered from our youth
others sit in corners and hug their bodies
folding in upon themselves
and whisper
and bargain
their fears entrenched
buried deep they are soulless
down to a cellular level they feel nothing but the heavy clicks
of heavy beaks
of momentous clicking and clucking
like the striking of a bell
an hour
the peal of unending terror
they rub skin raw
with worry
and smash their palms into reddening eye sockets
bloody tears staining pallid cheeks
for even in the light of day
they fear the coming of the night
and the foraging quails
peering, their eyeballs black
subterranean like wellsprings
where the little children drown
and only swim up at night
to tap tap tap
on windowpanes
entreating
grinning with shiny teeth
and they cry
we are lonely
Joseph
we are sad
Annie
come out and play
with us.