my window every night,
to lift my bed and gently shake it
till I wake in fright,
does not belong to any living
thing that I can spy.
Its arm just fades from view out in
the dark and endless sky.
I’ve learned it’s best to hold my breath
and try to make no sound,
or else the fingers start to twitch
and blindly grope around.
And if they touch my skin, I know
they’ll grasp me like a bear
and drag me from my cozy house
and then to who knows where.
For surely some appalling creature
lurks outside my room,
With ropy arms to pull me near
its face out in the gloom.
Or else I fear the night itself
is reaching out to me,
To pluck me from my bed and hurl me
towards eternity.
Copyright © 2020 by P. B. Pitsker. All rights reserved
