Carl Rabus – Spassky Gate in Moscow (detail)
The clouds circle around,
Bringing the moon closer,
Lighting the windows,
Where faces watch the night.
I walk quickly this night
from those who lurk from sight.
The wind gives a whistle, a sigh,
as the strands of my hair lift high.
The moon hides its face.
I quicken my pace.
Shadows surround me.
Footsteps behind me.
Hands circle my neck.
Is that a love peck?
He takes my blood.
I fall in a red flood.
Will I belong to him?
He watches with a grin.
I’ve become a nightwalker,
a present from my stalker.
PREY FOR THE DEAD by Susanne Leist
Take me to the bright light that shimmers
in the far reaches of the forest.
I lay my head on a thick bed of grass.
A blanket of flowers for my cover.
Sleeps takes me away from here
to a place where there’s no fear.
I fly above the branches
and gaze at my sleeping form.
Contentment relaxes my face.
My eyelids flicker in my dream.
Too soon it will be night,
bringing the dark and cold.
I must return tomorrow
to see how my dream unfolds.
Dark and deserted.
Whispers in the wind.
The house calls.
The night falls.
And so do the footsteps.
The darkness approaches.
We’re cocooned in its shell.
Hidden in its depths.
Lost in its silence.
I will close my shutters.
Shut my windows.
But it still enters.
The woods can be much too dark,
more than a walk in the park.
They can hold secrets so deep
you can see them in your sleep.
The trees can hide the bright sunlight
with shadows lurking in the night.
I wander between the trees,
someone find me, pretty please.
I will make a bed on the forest floor.
I hope nothing knocks at my woodsy door.
Dark surrounds me like a spoon.
I’m soon wrapped in its cocoon.