And On The Window Licks The Night

by  Shaun Lawton 

 In the dark corrosion of malformed memories
whose echoes return to haunt us 

in the middle of the night 

when the rafters have been chilled
with the wind's own bite can we know 

what it's like to be so filled with fright

 our own will stops working and yet 

we proceed as if possessed when lying

 in bed on our backs frozen stiff 

with a slow creeping fear when
you hear rustling in the eaves

 as the others get undressed 

in the disappearing moonlight

moving across the floor tiles 

of the room being swallowed 

in a rising tide of swirling ink 

just when you think we're all 

at our most vulnerable the window 

slides up inviting the dark of outer
space inside the gates unlock 

in the pitch black of night letting 

the blurred Shades in to our world
unseen and unwhispered down halls 

of schools, homes, churches, cars, beds, 

and living rooms, dressed and arrested

 one more time for a final breakfast.