The Chimney 

 

I am two

alone in a room

bathed in the light

of a bellyache gloom.

 

A clock on a shelf

pictures hung about

and a fireplace where my terror comes out.

 

Tock-tock

the clock

chime-chime

the time

cold air in the chimney

next chime is mine.

 

And Bone-Skull floats

from out the fireplace

once about the room

then a-bobbin bout my face.

 

Then Bone-Skull chatters

teeth a-clatter

“little one, little one

what is the matter?”

 

I tell you now

of the terror felt then

of the endless grin scrim-scrawled cross it’s chin.

 

I am small

I no-where to hide

Bone-Skull is old

and won’t fit inside

 

a hidden cupboard

kept for coffee and tea

saucers and tumblers

and toddlers like me.

 

But, tap-tap

the knock

rattle-rattle

the door

 

tock-tock

the clock

Bone-Skull

wants more

 

of my terror behind the cupboard door.

 

Bone-Skull chatters

teeth a-clatter

“little one, little one

what is the matter?”

 

I mattered a scream

grown two full years

it all came out

the haunting and tears

 

The clock

stopped tocking

the pictures fell

when Bone-Skull in the fireplace burned back to hell.