The Roaming

They came at night their faces in sores
they surrounded the house
its ragged wooden porch,
it screeched as they lurched
and silked through the door.
the lady in green
a traitor before
seemed to weigh up
the life and death of her hands
the left near the gun
the right at the door.
she closed the door
and left me the gun.

The wooden porch lurched still
they thundered before us
the bodies surrounding
waiting for resurrection.
in my right i hold the gun
its cold steel smile mocking my fear.
the bodies before us thunder towards us
they know not of fear or love or surrender.
the bullets are golden, of brass and steel
i close my eyes and aim for the centre
it hits the first, the second and third.
the bullets are eternal
they pierce the thunder and let in the light.
far far away i hear a gasp,
eyes re open a spirit re woken
the lumbering body of dead is alive.
the curse is broken,
my loved one has spoken.
the thunder recedes and i collapse,
shuddering.