Newton's Cradle (revision)

[milo]

Newton's Cradle

Terror is never as simple as the unseen clacking ball.
It is always the doll with a butcher’s knife,
crawling through ventilation shafts,
or the stranger that follows you home—
with each imperceptible connection
acting as a marker.

We scan the skies for flying monkeys,
or wander through corn fields
to the music of the moon, with its midnight waltz
of straw zombies--simple distractions
to protect us from the truth.

The witch cackle, cackles and you will believe
that you can never go home.

A fingerprint will smudge
cancer on an X-ray

The clatter of the metal duct
will cover the creak of tiny feet on hardwood

The funnel cloud swirls
like a swarm of restless bees.

The ball is already swinging.

Death comes first
then the dying.

~~~

The original poem is here. I got a great deal of good feedback that led to this revision. Thanks all!

Todd, I found this spectacular. The metaphor is clearly drawn, the narrator is justly oblivious to outside pretensions. If you put me in thumbscrews I would say erase "always" and "imperceptible" and leave the rest be.