They Only Come Out At Night

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

They only come out at night when
libations pour and spirits dance
across the tongue like fire
raging on the steppes.
Visions blur, sounds are heard
that deny our expectations.

Old lovers and regrets move
across luminiscent floors.
The angry moon breaks her way
through the clouds to stare me down
with cold, severe ferocity.

I fall asleep, my eyes are wide.
I wake with eyes wildly shut:
vision-led imagination —
the haunting of poltergeists
defenestrating dreams and hopes
(shards of glass upon the ground).

Now a light reveals the dark
though the dawn is far away
replaced by unholy arc
that tears through humanity
and rips the fabric of the earth.

© Darryl Willis 2022