night-piece

 what's that
  i'm awake
a bang like a door or a foot
knocking a chair 
  who's there

tense i lie in my bed my face
stretching out on the black air
my ears strain.
.
.
.
.
.
a creak this time
like a cat on the stair - but we have no cat
if the door-handle turned and a.
.
.
.

shape came in.
.
.
.
.
darkness
clutches at my startled hair
spiders walk my skin
   would i dare
to go for it with my fists - my fists
clench doped with sweat
   would i scream
faint or lie there staring
my eyes pushing out in jets of fear
waiting for what - what would it do

a short nipped sound from the earwig night
drops in my ear
  i sit up
pinching my breath - was it by the door
or the window - i can't be sure
i wait for the next sound for the
blade of the knife
  i become aware
of the ticking clock.
.
.
and my father's
heavy breathing in the next room
the curtain moves and a faint light
like a living thing creeps on the bed
something - a twig - scratches on the pane
a car changes gear on a nearby hill
there is a creak in the house again
a door rattles in a hidden wind - an owl's cry
dogs barking - even a distant train - all
friendly and easy to explain
   i relax
and yawn get out and stand by the window
looking out on the soft outlines of houses
silent lawns making my own peace with night

when i return to bed at last (all
tension gone) birds are standing
on the treetops bringing in the dawn

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