Mr. Extinction

By Salvatore Difalco

He’s been around a lot lately, shaking his robes,
making monster faces at the children.
The wife finds him antipathetic.
I don’t mind him as much as everyone else;
I’ve known him a long time.
He used to visit me when I was a child,
dropping in unexpectedly.
His smell always put me off,
a blend of frankincense and rotting meat,
but that was foreseeable.
His voice is surprisingly high
for someone so dark and ominous.
I always wondered what it was
like to be him, in his rough black hood,
feared and despised. Was he ever lonely?

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