“Lethal Hands” by Emily Jones

The ghastly wind grips my throat like an axe to my heart
The frightening blood pounds in my ears
And the shadows take over the sky
The moon is no more than a burnt out disk hovering around
The bloody cards that once belonged to a lethal game
Still burn in my hands like wildfire
As I remember the knife inches above my shivery skin, I shudder
And continue to stare at Death’s evil night

For more poems by Jones, check out FIVE Vol. 1 No. 6.