Haunters January o5, 2o16

Well, earlier than I wanted, but here is the first poem of a new year.

Haunters

I couldn’t sleep tonight

because the winter clouds
kept creeping into my dreams.
You were there too which
didn’t help. Ghosts are ghosts
and all they do is scratch away
at the surface hoping that they’ll
hit a vein and make me scream
myself into consciousness.

And then it’s cold coffee

in my favorite cup, an apple
to chase away the hungry demon
clawing at my gut, and an hour or two
on the computer, or however long it takes
for the spirits to get bored and go away.
And I’ll try to sleep again hoping all the while
that these haunters living in the clouds
won’t come back, won’t come back tonight.
Woodie o1-o5-16