ghosts

Ghosts

When I wake up a two in the morning

I hear his one hoof slipping on the cobbled

it didn’t use to be like that it was a sandy lane

easy to walk on but inland tourism is big now

hence the uneven stones, he stops outside my

house I shiver in the heat, but then he walks on

chuckling darkly he has the comic timing of

a comedian who hates his audience, himself and

the whole fucking world.

Sleep impossible I walk barefoot into the kitchen

open the fridge a cold beer never fails to bring

coolness and a rethink, but I sense shadows around

my desk when I look up only cold air blows and

my contempt for my ghosts is total never do the have

the courage to show their face