by Joshua Converse05 Jul 2013
Now that the sun has gone down,
and we can talk,
about the possibility of the macabre:
in the half-light of the fireplace,
we spoke in earnest
of what might be out there?
Tomorrow morning, coffee and eggs
will make us forget goose-flesh,
hairs on end,
and the fear in the black pool of the reptile-brain
That won’t be civilized
What if something watches
from the gloom,
And snuffles at the scent
Of bones encased in flesh?
What if, tonight and every night,
we are not alone?