Halloween (2019, #1)

they are knocking on my windows,
men with thin fingers and
the appetites of wolves.
Their breath fogs the glass,
stinks through the windowpane:
abandoned barns full of
hollowed cattle,
skin turned brittle,
the too-sweet smell of
rotten grain.
They are thin as shadows,
their fingers work through the storm-guards,
sliding easily into the room.
they are standing and
watching me sleep,
these men with thin fingers
and the appetites of wolves.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s