They, by Jacinto Luntian

GrandmaSM, by Eugene Zeng

They’ve poisoned the handles to every door

That opens to somewhere else

They’ve trapped everyone who’s tried to be free

By tricking them into trapping themselves

They’re caught in a car that can’t carry them

To anywhere they haven’t already been

They carry their sons on their crosses unaware

That he already died

for something other than


They wake in their beds still hollow from fear

Of THEY that knock on the glass

They divide the dream from the day and find

Something’s escaped in a flash

“Somethings” in plural, not known by he or by she

Known only as THEY that thrum through the thoughts

of those that can’t set themselves free–

Caught between that which

Strikes you blind at that

Which simply cannot be


-Jacinto Luntian

GrandmaSM, by Eugene Zeng
Artwork: GrandmaSM, by Eugene Zeng