Bone-Skull
Published in Chronogram, 2025

I am two
alone in a room,
bathed in the weight
of a bellyache gloom.
A clock on a shelf,
pictures hung about,
and a fireplace where my terror comes out.
Tock-tock the clock.
Chime-chime the time.
Cold air in the chimney,
next chime is mine.
And Bone-Skull floats
from out the fireplace,
once about the room
then a-bobbin bout my face.
Then Bone-Skull chatters,
teeth a-clatter,
“little one, little one
what is the matter?”
I tell you now,
of the terror felt then,
of the endless grin scrim-scrawled cross its chin.
I am small,
I no-where to hide.
Bone-Skull is old
and won’t fit inside,
a hidden cupboard
kept for coffee and tea,
saucers and tumblers
and toddlers like me.
But, tap-tap the knock.
Rattle-rattle the door.
Tock-tock the clock,
Bone-Skull wants more,
of my terror behind the cupboard door.
Bone-Skull chatters,
teeth a-clatter,
“little one, little one
what is the matter?”
I mattered a scream
grown two full years,
it all came out,
the haunting
and tears.
The chimney howls.
The fireplace flashes.
And Bone-Skull burns– 
ashes.

ashes.