Night

The story begins
‘It was a dark dark night’

and the trees in the middle
of the dark dark wood

offered children ghosts
    for the asking.

The dark den of night
hugged the roof of the trees,

a blanket draped over chairs
    closing you in.

Somewhere an owl who-whoed
    and even the trees

fell back in alarm as you walked
    out into the roofless night.

Here – this was planned – the gothic mansion
    looming out of the gloom,

the hinges that creaked as the night
    tightened round you and the children

are glad not to be there.
    You went in.

You knew you must bring yourself
    up those dim stairs to

the empty corridor waiting
to clutch at your tread

And then the great wooden door that moved
with an ominous groan.

The children huddle behind you now
clinging, breathless

Daring each other, fearing, peering
What do they see?

A curtained four-poster and a welcoming
    fire in the hearth?

Balloons and waiting friends
    and a surprise party?

A secret garden blooming
    with lurking monsters?

The space between distant galaxies,
    vast nothing?

Their parents naked,
    engaged in the act?

Bluebeard’s hideous wives, each
    rotting where she hangs?

Well, it’s in your hands as each tableau
    fades to the next

you can freeze frame wherever
    you choose. It’s your story.

Nov 14