Fending Off Ghosts

When the commotion of simply picking up
the threads from the day before
dies down,

revealing quiet walls
and the tick tock tick,
second by second,
of that oh so quiet
kitchen wall clock
that you never quite manage
to hear
normally,

I no longer do
what I always did.

Instead of cranking up
a random flip of the cd rack
or howling MTV
to drown the vile whispers out,
I let them in.

Open the windows,
already bulging from their
venom pressure,
and let them flood my mind.

Playing the good hostess,
I bid them to sit - which they don't,
and ask them to wait there.
Of course they follow,
taunting, teasing - I don't care.

Because I'm heading
where they can not go,

a universe of
me,
you,
blanket.

As I lay down
creep in under
with you,

face to sleeping face,
your tiny breath
on my nose,
and for a magic minute,
your unknowing hand in mine.

And somehow
they see that I'm busy,

and go bother
someone else.