Shatter of shutters, creak of the gate

There is a draft coming in

A chill that slashes at my core

There is a draft coming in, please, close the door.

“It has been closed for awhile now”

What can you say?

When all the ghosts have gone array

Wide eyes open with fear

Gates shatter, shutters creak

A pause, a silence, draws very near.

I can—can’t, can—barely spea—k

“It has been closed for awhile now”

Numb fear, numb ghosts: winking with a crinkle

Scattered shattered where’s the pattern?

A draft coming inside, a gun in hand.

Closed the door!  I demand.

Delectable horrible eyes gone grey

Spinning without motion carpe day

Beg, plead, and no one listening.

Won’t succeed: door still open, a draft impedes.

Doors shatter can barely speak.