I will come back to haunt you
Slumped nightly in your La-Z-Boy sprawl,
collecting zzz’s before the game is finished,
predictably inebriated with ghastly breath
expelled and sinking in the airless living room.
I will yank back the stale, putrid curtains
and shove open the window,
so the rain, thunder and air, chilling to the bone,
can make an entrance,
that would wake the
I will press my icy fingers on your lips,
a kiss would be too much for your heart,
and place the burden of my discontent
on your cowardly chest, for greater weight.
And you will wake, with clammy skin,
heart palpitating, knowing absolute terror,
force of the unknown, dread of the end,
you will try to stand,
like the hairs on the back of your neck.
You will struggle to scream and flee
but your limbs will feel restrained like a
in a cement boot anchor,
ready for the mantle of the river,
and your voice will go missing,
like I went missing.
Published in ‘Werewolves and Other Bitches (Prospective: A Journal of Speculation)’ 2012