I heard you say

The night is coming by Kismuki (Deviant Art)

Etched wooden chairs,
a French polished dining table,
ambient candle lights.

Beyond the dining room
your mind plays on your fears,
the shadows shift, move.

Petrified of the shadows,
a child too young to understand,
darkness frightened you.

Enlightened by knowledge,
you face the shadows fearlessly,
never taking a wrong step.

A touch along your neck,
terror has a name you remember,
you run out into the night.

A windless cold night,
movement within the front trees,
illogical ways of nature.

Those etched chairs,
your father died on one of those,
too long ago, father.

A whisper on the wind,
something I heard you say long ago,
“my darling daughter”.

Between Nightmares

Perspiration and a feeling of heat take hold within the stifling sheets.

Sleep comes slow, yet when it comes, events progress, and I’m standing in front of a light green house with gold-laced windows in a forest at the top of a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac.

Nothing makes sense, as a random stranger dances up with multiple women and says he’s been waiting for me to arrive.

Events progress, then I’m awake from one nightmare only to see something in the bathroom mirror. A heart can only miss so many beats as the sheets become a greenhouse.

Between the nightmares, your side of the bed is empty. You sit in another room playing a game at 2 am, while sleep is inevitable.

Dancing Tongues

Six ladies meet at the “Celebrity Chef No.269th” restaurant in Melbourne for lunch at 1 pm for the weekly catchup.

They greet each other in the usual manner; fake kisses, judgemental grins, too much make-up, and designer clothes.

Once seated, they order drinks and lunch to make themselves feel like they have to be somewhere important.

Now the little things are sorted, the dancing tongues begin a convoluted quickstep.

Controversial gossip and catty bitchery dances on their lips as they release their hatred for their husbands, their children, and life in general.

By the dessert menu, which they make a point of resisting, they’re ready for a massage and a line of cocaine.