The House of the Dead
the chandelier quakes.
its candlelight...doth shake.
from the house of the dead,
bitter footsteps of lead.
the awful clink of chains
and howling screech refrain.
my bones ensconced in chill.
ghost’s dagger-breath could kill.
why did i conjure up,
‘vite this spirit to sup?
i thought it all a joke
when “of séance” was spoke.
belovéd lies on floor.
i’m frozen to the core.
in silence i’m his prey.
teeth chatter, “GO AWAY!”
the dwindle of the mist.
at my words...the ghost hissed.
in the house of the dead,
i’d no longer break bread.
2/27/2021
Julia Ward’s Ghost Contest
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