Guilt

In the silence of a dark night

the world shrinks to only what I can hear,

night sounds, un-embodied, without form

except what fancy my mind creates lying there,

the covers pulled close and tight to shelter me

from the cold and from what I fear,

what I know is there, hidden in the darkness.

That bump in the night falls heavy, somewhere,

unexplained, and the shadows beneath my bed

creep out and crawl along the wall, rising

to the ceiling and watching me, staring,

yellow-eyed, or slinking down the back stairway

to stir loose the floorboards, creaking

now as they did when I ascended, climbing late

and careful not to wake those who slumber,

nor those who wait my presence, a light turned off,

a jostled bed signaling them to rise, to dance

and shriek, their footfalls thumping around me

or soft on the carpet of my room, silent now and dark,

a scurrying begun in the walls and ceiling

and dreams that haunt my restless sleep.