Poetry Friday: Phantoms


No phantoms speak black words tonight
within my ears and out of sight.
They often whisper chillingly
The awful truths that I can’t see
about the world and those that live
and barely breathe and never give.
I fear the phantoms but they come
because, they say, there must be one
to bear the truth of all the world.
They touch me with their claws uncurled
upon my chest, “This place,” they’ve said,
“is where the people have gone dead.”
This happens almost every night;
their voices echo as in flight
upon the still air of my room
as I lie huddled—Hark now! Soon!
I hear their wings and feel their touch
and breath—now I have said as much
as can be said. All that is heard
inside my room are phantom words.

* * *

P.S. Happy Halloween! 😀


Smile back

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