eidolic dread horses

have scarred your slumber

and even your furniture

has silent, open mouthed, nightmares

over the too soon dead school friends

who never ended their crossings

where there she stoops in shroud

ghastly knelt as in prayer

and you can’t see through the tricks

of light that scream “she is there”

your crumpling chest  boiling

as the bones in your legs subside

while those without body cross

the empty room, no need to surmise

that which lies bereft and restless

may yet have something to say

and you are the luckless soul

who resides upon their byway