Darkness paces behind my eyelids
where monsters dance, and
tomorrow is hungry.
Sunlight is my warden…It guards
shadows, peers through curtains,
chases thoughts into inspection.
But it’s when the moon dresses
the wolf howl anger damns
the sweet sonnet I masquerade in.
Evil craves a host and I am its welcome.
If "wicked opens wounds", I wonder what (who) closes them.
ReplyDeleteYes, there's that spirit abroad in the space that makes our poems, I think--this is another chilling and also riveting piece, Susie--I can't say enough how these thoughts of yours fit into my own darker ones...too many excellent lines to quote, but I especially like 'Sunlight is my warden..' as if that may be the last thing to hold the evil back, and as if one is holding on to the hope that it is not human enough to fail/fall.You have packed this 55 with all a poem can hold.
ReplyDeleteNights are long.... you make them even longer and I love it...
ReplyDeletemostly moonless here.
Ah but we need that wicked side. The best of us are always moons with a sun side and a dark side. All dark, that's evil. All bright, that's frivolous. It's the mix that makes us real.
ReplyDeleteYes, we all have our dark wicked thoughts. One of my dark thoughts is totally alien to the person I think i am. I would never carry it through though...
ReplyDeleteLove your words.
Anna :o]