I Saw Your Ghost

Big fingered whittling
of Lilliputian gourds,
each one of fingernail proportions
with a tiny ghoulish face
peeping from the empty head.
Is this the size of love?

Pumpkin head
could never be a compliment.

On the edge of my slumber
I rumble along the mattress
raw from the bite of the sweat soaked
tides of anxiety.

I awake in the middle dream world.
Here, within my mezzanine consciousness
and fragile sliver of sleep,
I saw your colossus
menace the air above me.

Confusion
as I feel for the real world
at my elbow,
but the visitation still mushroom clouds
and terror writhes and rips through my throat.

Seconds yawn red
as the Ghost vapourises and
your body wakes to collect my sobbing bones.

You cough a lullaby to my brittle snapping teeth,
breath coolness into my lungs,
soothe me back.

But,
I saw your Ghost
and am now watching for it’s return
with taut, matchstick eyes.