Half Past Late

In the middle of the night

You hear nothing but your feather-like footsteps padding on the solid wood floor.

You see nothing but a black hole, a tunnel, with no light at the end.

A pinhole of moonlight shines through the kitchen curtain

And a thin, sparkling stream of iridescent light dances on the floor.

A neon glow of the time, 2:52 a.m., flashes on the stove as you creep your way across the floor.

The house seems inhabitable,

With its darkened windows and creaky old steps.

Suddenly you feel a gust of wind hurry past you

And a quick eye pulls a shadow from the distance.

Your heart pounds like melodic drums

And your hands sweat like a waterfall.

This is no ordinary night,

There is something wrong here.

You become light-headed and scared

As the darkness rears its ugly head in a more vicious way

And the kitchen twists dark on its spine*.

Frightened you are,

But this was just the beginning.

*And the kitchen twists dark on its spine

Taken from “Cutting Greens”

By Lucille Clifton.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

06...This poem got me a lot of credit from my class =) hope you feel the same!

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