Bad Laura
Oh God. Please. Not this day.
The mossy ceiling fan slows,
and blows the dark down the hall to my room.
And I know he is coming again.
I’ve named him Bob, you know.
His dark is charmed.
Bestial.
Always, I cannot move,
or even see him through the soot.
And he climbs upon me and pants.
With an insane laugh,
he eats at me.
Handles me hard.
Tells me I am bad.
Bad bad girl.
Bad Laura.
And he says
until next time.
And he knows I will not tell.
Because then they will all know.
I am dirty, so dirty,
and can’t wash it off.
Categories
Lee Dunn View All
Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.
Man, such a great poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I’m a long-time fan of Twin Peaks.
LikeLike
Great post 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person