John Grey, 10/12

 The Nightmare Man



Night extends to the far reaches of the room.

Dying sun attends the earth’s funeral.

Floors erode. Ceilings lower. Walls are soaked with tears.

Hope lacks resonance. The moon may yet shine

but just to spotlight fear. It’s hard to be without

the slightest haven, exposed to wind rippling

the wrinkled nerves. My mind is at the bleak end

of its checkered career. All I thought I knew

grovels before the unknowing.


Nights saps the energy to start again. It’s not a

killer but a belligerent witness all the same.

It will stay until my terror, my melancholy,

are of a piece. Look what time it is.

The past pushes hard against the future to

squeeze out the immediate hour. Somewhere

a clock strikes and a moment drops down dead.



John Grey has been recently published in Echolocation, Bryant Literary Review and Caveat Lector with work upcoming in Clark Street Review, GW Review and the Potomac Review.

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