Saturday, 20 February 2016

Poetry 2016 Longlist, Anusha Das

A Haunting

an eerie air
stuffed the room
a spooky corner
by the broom
he saw a shadow
behind the curtain
whose bloodshot eyes
tore his vein
as he stood
around the furnace
to calm his senses
sooth his nerves
the fire ablaze
with a grotesque face
calling his name
a dark voice came
"Welcome my friend
To the house of Living Dead"
and thud he fell
with a broken head

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