The House of Dust (Marilyn A. Hudson, 2015)
They gather to exercise their creaking bones,
To sharpen their jagged talons,
To spit out death and scream out their moans.
They all look at me.
Shuffling in, clutching the rags of the grave,
Lashed to the corpse of their depravity;
Seeking fresh dreams to corrupt and enslave.
They all look at me.
Creaking and groaning they point and chew;
Tearing raw flesh and gnawing at bone.
Red beady eyes scan all around and then gaze at you.
They all look at me.
Miming their smile, revealing bloody fanged teeth.
Demons swirling around, sneering in glee.
Their master’s drag the grave seeking the hell underneath.
They all look at me.
They cackle, scamper, and whisper of what will come;
The gibbering fears yet to be.
I look them in the eye, “what you fear is what you now see.”
They all… look at me.
