The Chimney 
 

I am two
alone in a room
bathed in the light
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 it’s 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 clock
stopped tocking
the pictures fell
when Bone-Skull in the fireplace burned back to hell.