photo by Susan K. Hagen–email@example.com
In the video, ghostlike images fly
round in the dark room. Out from
the walls, hide under the child’s bed,
shoot to the ceiling and dive
into the pillow then back to the ceiling,
shimmering, staring down at the sleeping child.
The boy screams in his sleep.
He only sees the the shape,
his eyes, too soft to see it through,
his mind, too simple to get the truth.
Don’t fear the glitch or ghost, son, she whispers.
Specter can’t hurt you; only breathing ones do.
Grow like a pine tree in the winter storm.
Do not wander ’round the shady pond where
lily pads and frogs don’t appear
as they are supposed to be,
where the snakes mimic ripples.
©Byung A. Fallgren