A POEM FOR INSOMNIACS

14 Dec

REAL TERROR

Real terror is not only

The glimpse of unfamiliar uniforms

Sidling, edgy, unshaven

Through flower beds, minds bent on ill-intent.

Real terror can be banal:

The sound of unexpected documents,

Letters, portents, unbidden,

Through portals thrown, words that force life changes.

Real terror is unaware,

The touch of acid rippling outwards,

Snaking, seeding, insensate

Through random homes, makes wounds deep and wide.

Real terror is four a.m.,

The taste of bitter inward scrutiny,

Moneyed, blown-out, unhealthy

Through sweaty sheets mind can find no solace.

(December 2019)

Andy Lightfoot