The boar
+ + +Now the ticking clocks scare me.The empty rooms, clock towers, belfries;I am terrified by them all.
+I really used to enjoy going to church,singing in the choir, listening to the sermon.Now the chairs squeal like dying pigs—
+It was the boar that did it.Fifteen feet from me that nightin the grass, rooting for Godknows what, finding me instead.
+I ran, not knowing where or how,not looking for his pursuit of me.I ran to God’s front door, foundit locked, found the house empty
+with a note saying, “Condemned.”
+