Those dream-filled summer nights,
a wail, anguished as a banshee,
pierced the rusty screen.
Then the rhythmic clatter grew
until the bed and I would tremble.
Let me come too, I whispered,
but it never heard,
or didn't understand,
or didn't care about a little girl
and a gallant torn-eared bear.
The rumbling, shaking wraith
moved on, its cry waning to an echo,
my heartbeat clinging to the cadence
of away from here, away from
First published in Black Poppy Review