“RAKE DANCER” by Tank

Have you ever danced in a field of fangs? When the sun sets on mankind’s good nature, there is a liminal space between light and dark when the creatures and creations of the world undergo a metamorphosis.

It’s in such instances when flowers furl back their petals and become stiff and rigid, swallowed by the engorged thorns of their stems. It’s at such moments when the soil beneath your feet intensifies its afternoon-sun drenched warmth until it burns with the might of the underground fires festering below. It’s when the shadows thicken and stretch till they touch tips and kiss and blend in a horizon of no color. And as you walk home, alone and unafraid, the ground bares its teeth and rumbles like an earthquake, daring you to pass through a trap of upturned rake-teeth, daring you to remain unafraid. And thus you’ll be forced, at some point or another, to dance in a field of fangs. You might even see a human-trap, here and there—like a mousetrap, but bigger, and filled with promises instead of cheese (for we are apparently more idealistic than our furry neighbors). Be careful of those. To be careful, you must see them. To see them, you must realize that they are there. And to realize that, you must open your eyes.

Then you too will understand, and will dance in the field of fangs.

~Angreek87