Two nights vanishing like this.
I heard a thumping of the door, a noisy
zombie shower, and bottles rattling
in the cupboard.
Some crooked fear twitched,
followed me down a gutter.
I settled down with a DVD, gurgled at
a chick flick, saved by
sassiness on a sidewalk.
When the boy came home, I asked
how were the bloody goblins,
he answered, there was much fog,
sat in those spinning orbs of
kinetics bumping at night.
When the house was empty, my heart
flickered like a Jack-o’-lantern.
The dankness of strange feelers had
caught me out. I’d cut them off
with a carving knife.