The Dark In The Dusk
Mom always says:
Mary my dear,
Study and then you can play
But don’t play there
At the southern woods,
There deep inside
Beside the brown long log,
Under the pine tree
Which is the home of bats,
In the holes, there live rats.
A number of tales that tree says
About the hell,
The demon and the elf.
I always replied: Yes.
But today she is no home,
And I completed my work.
Now I will play
There
Deep in the south,
Under the pine tree
And no one will ever see.
It is the dusk,
I ate my rusk,
Ready to move there
To meet the rats
And bats
And let’s see
What else’s there!
With knife in hand
Fingers holding it tight.
Still the body shaking
Such was the vibe.
The log, the tree,
The bats and the rats,
All together seem
Waiting for me from nights!
Now I hear another sound
From behind the leaves.
A hand comes out
Which I had seen before!
The right leg and now
The whole body.
I had definitely seen him before
He was him,
The man in the frame,
The frame in my room.
Mom used to point
At the frame with a smile
And always said
He was a great man.
He met with an accident.
But the photo did not have
A knife in the chest,
Which he has now,
While my tiny fingers
Still holding the knife!
He was with a smile
Eyes in tears,
With no onions near.
And he could speak,
Like no demons do:
‘Mary– my kid
How pretty are you.
Same as mom
And exactly the same
Knife you hold
Like mom.
But you cannot kill
Me like what mom did
This time
I am already dead!’
I was sure
Of the moment
And sure
Of who was the man,
In the frame
And why always mom
Smile pointing to him.
And all of the sudden
the man
Or better to say dad
Was dread!
His fingers pointed
At the back.
I turned around
And it was her,
With a knife
And she said:
I warned you
Don’t play there!
