You say they had a thing like a drill?
Yes and pushed it into the side of my head
Like if I take my cordless model and do this?
Yes but the tone was more organic, this hurts like hell
Theirs did not?
No, could I have a towel for the blood?
It was more like a tongue flicking into my brain
So it was attached to the creature?
And did you understand it?
I sensed it, trusted it
Was it a language?
More of a purring
And you felt safe?
You know that I am going to shoot you now
Of course, that is what I was led to expect.
After living in a Moscow and London John Porter is now in Gloucestershire, UK. He has degrees in Russian and Law and when not juggling his two small sons he writes poems, usually on trains. His work had appeared in publications including The Stinging Fly, Prole and Strix. Twitter: @John_A_Porter
Banner image by James Knight