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weak ghouls
they flee
so easily

mornings
the fresh darkness
at my kitchen table

silence sinks deep
stitching organs strong

I am in love
with the cold wind
and dark early walks

the sun is gone
this hour
in my electric light

I was attacked by fear demons last night
they were singing death
racing my heart
and sweating my bed

I crawled in
their gullets
easing peace

mysterious again
this morning
the dark pail
of riddles
to shake and rattle

Poets to read

Samuel Menashe