Pitiful Fear of Being Undead

when you see things at night

from that pointed edge of eye,

lack of concentration makes you

fall,

with split dusty lip

blood in a trickle,

there are things that need

to bite to eat,

so hold your breath

and let a simple fear grow,

lurking in the doorway

bareheaded prowler of the night,

heart a ticking clock

raising a clamor

no mortal creature approaches,

mopping blood on paper tissue

red stain dropped scented a plenty,

he has strayed from his paradise

and i am to be his chalice,

teeth and lips taste my flesh,

memories blend and blur,

heart slows to a dull stutter,

revelations pause and pass,

i will go to earth

a blacken chrysalis

and raise my fear another day

 

Gravitational Pull

dusk as intervention

to that crawlspace known as night,

leaning on the fence

cigarette stub extinguished

dropped over onto sidewalk,

link impressions reddened arm,

as i moved away,

light essential began to click on

the first a house a block away,

opposite the empty one

looked bleak and could not

be forgiven,

grass damp curled over,

now on porch sock imprints

their trace vague would evaporate,

i nearly lit up again

it was an unforgiving chain,

i was the operator

of my own half life,

as night swallowed up that rose

growing in the corner,

her rose she planted

as a recipe for splendor,

splendor that never came,

small card table surface

where i rested my pad,

maybe pour a glass

as a moth juddered by,

pencil tapped and i would

write.