NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD

the dead hide
in dust and old paint
and rise in the
chill of dark nights
to shake sleep
from weary flesh
and dog the heels
of a restless mind
 
their shadows slip  
between the warm sheets
of old men's beds
to rant or coo,
beg forgiveness,
or demand apology
 
their cold fires
smolder long into
the  night