Somber leaves hiss in the night wind,
dark mounds conspiring.Gaping spaces in tooth-torn trees
become mouths in silent screams.
Distant light falters, obscured
by clawed hands of weaving limbs.
With fierce-nugget eyes cats
slink by, brush my skin--
it shudders the length of fear,
hairs probing the air for omens.
One foot marks the porch edge--
inches to safety or the last walk.
Terror lies taut, eyeless, inward.
Beast knows where the knives keep.
Mary Bast, Time Warp
