Yes there are things
that go bump in the night
unlike we imagine

Dark-gray spirals
against the dark
potentially unseen

Subliminal phantasmagoria

Whispers from deep
within closets left open
alongside the bed

Creaks of baseboard
the sound of frantic
advancing feet

Invisible minuscules
there on the hem of
my pillow sheet

It is much too cold
to blame fever

No refuge even inside

Chagall 2018

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