something stirring in the shadows beneath the bed
with a bagful of pins in your swallowing throat
a loaded gun pressed like a palm to your head
each breath is an enemy soldier’s joke
as the sun flees and leaves you for dead.
night comes down with a killing blow
unstoppering thought with cruelty
until the mind’s killing fields glow
with blood and endless impiety
as the sun flees and dark grows.
when the last light’s gone
and your mind is wide,
evil suspicions won
thus fled the sun.
— Delilah Des Anges
Other poems to read today:
Sleep in the Mojave Desert, Sylvia Plath
The Man With Night Sweats, Thom Gunn
Slumber-Song, Siegfried Sassoon
To His Mistress Going To Bed, John Donne
Throughout this month I will be nagging readers to donate to MSF