The Visitor

by David R J Sealey

 

Slumbering, peaceful, a leg sticks out,

a foot upturned to reveal a sole

soft and clean, unblemished,

begging to be devoured…

 

Great tangled webs of drool dangle down

to drown flies flitting amidst fetid strands

and touch, at last, the virgin flesh

that flickers quickly back beneath covers

subconsciously protecting it’s dignity,

subcutaneously shivering the threat

watching silently over the bed sheets

longing to taste what lays beneath.

 

A sliver of light slides slight over shades

illuminating pop posters a ghastly glow;

a shape shifts slowly, lit in the twilight,

diffuse as a storm cloud lost in the night

arched over the bedstead ready to strike,

before a flash of teeth fit for a shark bite

and gnash madly together, a vulgar display,

that rends apart nothing but thin black air…

 

Where did they go?

WHERE DID THEY GO?

 

Under the stars,

under the stairs,

thundering hearts

betray us…

 

It tore through the hallways,

it sniffed at the study,

it clattered the saucepans,

and shattered the chairs,

it tapped at the windows

and slammed at the doors,

it left trails on the carpets

like an army of slugs,

 

it didn’t find us

 

tucked up in the cupboard

praying for dawn

before tip-toeing barefoot

out onto the lawn.