of malformed memories
whose echoes haunt us
in the night & the rafters
have been chilled
with the wind's own bite
can we know what
it's like to be so filled
with fright that our own
will stops working
and we proceed as if
possessed when lying
in bed on our backs
frozen stiff with a slow
creeping fear when you
hear rustling in the eaves
as the others get undressed
in the disappearing
moon light
moving across the floor
tiles of the room swallowed
under a rising tide of swirling ink
and just when you think
we're at our most vulnerable
the window slides up
inviting the dark of outer
space inside the gates unlock
in the pitch black of night
letting blurred shades
in to our world unseen
and unwhispered down halls
of schools homes churches
cars beds and living rooms
as we're getting dressed
