The Ghost

The Ghost

With bestial angelic eyes

I shall return and make no noise,

And slip into your quiet room

And glide towards you in the gloom;

My dusky love, I shall bestow

Moon-cold kisses on your brow,

With coiled caresses writhing round

Like snakes that haunt a burial ground.

Morning will not reveal my face,

You’ll wake to find an empty place,

Though when night comes I shall be there.

Others endeavour to possess

Your life and youth through tenderness -

Not me: I choose to rule by fear.