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The Visitor - 2/7
III
why do I want to be haunted? It's weird
to wish for a visit from something I feared
but she needs to come back, for I need to know
and she hasn't returned for two nights in a row
I know what you're thinking, I don't disagree
I should leave it alone, and yet here, on night three
I open the window -- not wide, just a crack
and I lie in bed waiting for her to come back
after a moment, I hear an odd sound
not here in my room, but down on the ground
a glance at the window shows nothing at all
so I lean out to see, careful not to fall
in the backyard, where the apple tree's planted
she sits leaned against it, arms crossed and head slanted
while faintly, I hear her so quietly weeping
I duck down a bit, so she won't hear me creeping
I sit there a while, to watch her crying there
but I feel a bit awkward, like I shouldn't stare
and leaning back in, sure to not bump my head
I close the window and get back into bed
but after a moment, I realize with fright
that the window was loud, in the dead 0f the night
rolling over, I happen to glance at the pane
and there she is, gazing at me once again
not outside the glass, but right here in my room
both eyes now unmilky peer right through the gloom
fighting my instinct, which yells BACK AWAY
I remain sitting there, hoping she'll choose to stay
what strikes me right then, in the silence that follows
her body's not riddled with wrinkles or hollows
she doesn't lo0k dead, but rather quite sick
pale and malnourished, and thin as a stick
and after a silence, she takes a step back
her eyes never leaving me, bright in the black
I want her to stay, so I stand, very slow
Hands slightly raised, I whisper "don't go"
which fills me with cold and immediate regret
fearing she'll run again, but she hasn't yet
she opens her mouth as if trying to speak
but instead she lets out the most horrible shriek
IV
I try to contain it, this deafening sound
she won't let me touch her or settle her down
but I can't just back off and leave her by herself
she's trashing my room and tipping my bookshelf
put a crack in my window and damaged the floor
while I stand there in fear against my bedroom door
and finally, once her tirade's at an end
arms drop to her sides, and she sits d0wn again
I sit close beside her, tentatively
waiting to find out if she'll speak to me
but she looks exhausted, so I sit and wait
for her strength to return and her rage to abate
finally after what seems like all night
her eyes lift a little, put me in their sight
she lifts up an arm and flops it on a mound
of books that fell off the shelf onto the ground
the pile topples over, and she looks upset
eyes apologetic, even slightly wet
I want to be comforting, but I don't know how,
"it's ok," I say, "show me what happens now?"
her face (now quite lovely) lights up with a grin
she turns to the books, gesturing within
tosses aside the wrong things with her arm
'til I take both her hands to prevent future harm
it takes but a moment to see what I've done,
it's clear it's been years since she's touched anyone
because instinctively she flinches, pulls away
"it's alright," I say calmly, "let me guide your way"
with I as her hands under her supervision
we sift through the books til she makes her decision
an old, battered thing I'd not seen for ages
with classmates' bad writing in m0st of the pages
as we leaf through it, she cries in low grunts
shows me a spread of some young teenage runts
where right in the middle, a girl dressed in pink
above her head: 'MISSING' in bold printer ink
I look up to the face of the ghost on my floor
I understand now what she sought me out for
to help her move on, and earn her soul's release
(hopefully she'll let me out in one piece)
why do I want to be haunted? It's weird
to wish for a visit from something I feared
but she needs to come back, for I need to know
and she hasn't returned for two nights in a row
I know what you're thinking, I don't disagree
I should leave it alone, and yet here, on night three
I open the window -- not wide, just a crack
and I lie in bed waiting for her to come back
after a moment, I hear an odd sound
not here in my room, but down on the ground
a glance at the window shows nothing at all
so I lean out to see, careful not to fall
in the backyard, where the apple tree's planted
she sits leaned against it, arms crossed and head slanted
while faintly, I hear her so quietly weeping
I duck down a bit, so she won't hear me creeping
I sit there a while, to watch her crying there
but I feel a bit awkward, like I shouldn't stare
and leaning back in, sure to not bump my head
I close the window and get back into bed
but after a moment, I realize with fright
that the window was loud, in the dead 0f the night
rolling over, I happen to glance at the pane
and there she is, gazing at me once again
not outside the glass, but right here in my room
both eyes now unmilky peer right through the gloom
fighting my instinct, which yells BACK AWAY
I remain sitting there, hoping she'll choose to stay
what strikes me right then, in the silence that follows
her body's not riddled with wrinkles or hollows
she doesn't lo0k dead, but rather quite sick
pale and malnourished, and thin as a stick
and after a silence, she takes a step back
her eyes never leaving me, bright in the black
I want her to stay, so I stand, very slow
Hands slightly raised, I whisper "don't go"
which fills me with cold and immediate regret
fearing she'll run again, but she hasn't yet
she opens her mouth as if trying to speak
but instead she lets out the most horrible shriek
IV
I try to contain it, this deafening sound
she won't let me touch her or settle her down
but I can't just back off and leave her by herself
she's trashing my room and tipping my bookshelf
put a crack in my window and damaged the floor
while I stand there in fear against my bedroom door
and finally, once her tirade's at an end
arms drop to her sides, and she sits d0wn again
I sit close beside her, tentatively
waiting to find out if she'll speak to me
but she looks exhausted, so I sit and wait
for her strength to return and her rage to abate
finally after what seems like all night
her eyes lift a little, put me in their sight
she lifts up an arm and flops it on a mound
of books that fell off the shelf onto the ground
the pile topples over, and she looks upset
eyes apologetic, even slightly wet
I want to be comforting, but I don't know how,
"it's ok," I say, "show me what happens now?"
her face (now quite lovely) lights up with a grin
she turns to the books, gesturing within
tosses aside the wrong things with her arm
'til I take both her hands to prevent future harm
it takes but a moment to see what I've done,
it's clear it's been years since she's touched anyone
because instinctively she flinches, pulls away
"it's alright," I say calmly, "let me guide your way"
with I as her hands under her supervision
we sift through the books til she makes her decision
an old, battered thing I'd not seen for ages
with classmates' bad writing in m0st of the pages
as we leaf through it, she cries in low grunts
shows me a spread of some young teenage runts
where right in the middle, a girl dressed in pink
above her head: 'MISSING' in bold printer ink
I look up to the face of the ghost on my floor
I understand now what she sought me out for
to help her move on, and earn her soul's release
(hopefully she'll let me out in one piece)
Published 22nd Mar 2016
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