The sound in the night

The sound in the night

that pulled you from your bed
that sent you creeping
stealthy, stealthy
that raced your heart
so that the quiet house
became a task you could not bear,
that sound, that jarring sound
that ominous sonorous thundrous sound,
that sound in the night
that set you weeping,
it was the other shoe that dropped.

two a.m.

hollow footsteps

stop and start

and stop again,

pacing off

the day before,

the day to come;

a young girl

leans her head

against the chair

and cries in rhythm

with the young one's

pull and tug;

old hands

tremble at the lock

that holds them,

cages him,

while strangers

snore in bedrooms

down the hall;

beneath the bench

two arms, two legs

a heap of rags

and bags seep

alcohol and other

fluid death;

a siren

cuts the night -

rifts, high and long,

scream someone’s

greatest fear;

alone at two a.m.,

I drink the dark

and shrink with

hearts that scuttle

in the night.