Poems are Like Hauntings by Alba Sarria

They do not shut down
come the changing of
climate
or wear away come
the rotting of once-fine
wood.

They remain, permeated
in the softest darkest coils
of the mind.

They sing to you while
you bathe and whisper
quietly while you
sleep, restless for
the lust of inspiration.

They do not shut down in the light,
nor melt away in the dark corners
of your hall.

Poems are like violent hauntings:
they knock over your books,
tear out the pages of your studies,
bang on the walls
until you run out cowering and chanting.

Their rhythms are like the pulse
of your own heart; ever-present
and maddening, if you so quiet down to listen.

Poems turn your tap
water to brackish black.
They peel back the muted colored paints
from your walls and write in blood
on your mirrors.

Poems are like a violent thrashing haunting
that cannot be salt-doused away.

Alba Sarria is a poet and flash fictionist fascinated by all things eerie and disquieting, especially folklore. Alba is the 2018 CSPA Gold Circle Award winner for freeform poetry and the CM for 2021 in the short story category.