These Little Demons

These Little Demons

By: Husam (Sam) Salman

In the underground

As I skid below the streets,

 In body of a metal worm

Whose motion was rolling rather than wriggle.

Spanning from the Downtown isles of the sky

Wound its way into NoHo, and the south;

Weathered workers would walk to its grace

Only to be swept away in this demon's belly.

No apps work in the wyverns lair

They rest heads as though in prayer

Headphones on, drifting off.

Hoping not to catch the eye of the crazy woman -

Hopeless, always asking for more crack money

“It’s for my baby”.  (I’m sure)

The luxuries some people

Accommodate themselves with,

Trinkets of adornment

Enlivens their outfit

Or are thrust in their faces

In the palms of their hands

Glowing tablets, tomes of knowledge.

None of us are getting out of this alive,

Life I mean,

This subway will bend

Wrap itself around a few more hoods

And end…

Until the traveler is no more.

Home.