Lately in my nights I have been Revisiting the scenes Of old nightmares, The blurred and Shadowy places All of cobwebs And confusion And sudden changes, Half-familiar recreations, Mirror images Of comforts And locations, The faces of the Living and the dead Both real and Imagined, All and nothing, Tricks and trap-doors, Shifting ground and Eyes between the floorboards, Ghastly things hiding In nettles and thorns, The buzzing of wasps And echoes of words. Some nights I can fly, Escape, ride the elation, But in spite of all trying I cannot force a scream, Breathing speeds up but Will not give way to crying, Heating under tangled covers, A body in panic Sweating with fear As if some great And terrible secret Seeks and demands confession. But there is none. No meaning emerges. Fear lingers in Half-forgotten images.