The Ravine

The Ravine







A bloody night.

Do not listen to the gurgling screams

of the bodies lying at the bottom of the ravine.



Instead, close the window with a SLAM

to silence the damned.

Close the curtains should you not spy

the red eye looking in of a soul climbed

from the ravine.



Lie in bed in mockery.

You know you will not sleep.

Hear the “creakkk, creakkk, creakkk creak”

of the old, wooden stairway generations now in your blood.

It tries to tell you in its own, special way,

“someone is here! Someone is coming!”



Only, you closed the window on the screams.

The bodies.

Are there bodies at the bottom of the ravine?

Didn't Grandpa tell you there were when you

were just a little girl?

“It's just a story honey,”

touching your nose,

“a story honey...story honey...story...”

unaware of the permanent damage

telling you that story created for you.



“creakkk...creakkk”

Who is in the ravine?

Whispering,

“a story honey...

it's just a story.”

“creakkk.”



A bloody night.

It is a very bloody night

and you closed the window.

You closed the curtains.



“Grandpa?”

Grandpa.

Grandpa's come home from the ravine.



--msl2024