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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