Non-Erotic PoetryHauntingThe walls would bend
and the shadow things would scream,
and you asked me
would it be all right?
But the blood would run
up the stairs and pounding through
my temples and the floors
would undulating breathe
and my diaphragm would red hot open,
and I would shriek wild with the shadows
and fly with the ghosts of murders
yet to come.
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