Poem Hunter
DC Danielle Cutler (April 28,1972 / Staten Island, NY)


It is time.
Feel the anticipation
As you drum your fingers restlessly.

Close your eyes.
Take a deep breath.
You think to yourself
“Come to me.”

It begins.
Sounds drip through the air like honey
Slow, thick, sweet, golden.

Your heart begins to race at the sounds
Direct, inviting, inspiring.
With a single purpose.

Sounds move across mountains
Over valleys, and rivers
Flowing without movement
Without, sound-?

Feel the sounds wash over you
You shudder delightfully at their meaning
The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stand on end
Know a small part of it belongs to you alone.

A secret
Calling to you, demanding your attention
You cannot resist, will not deny
What is asked of you-


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