On the Night it Comes

You're calm, sleeping
with the lights on
between both parents

growing ghosts
deliciously
for the thrill of it

blankets in a clutch
with a firm hold
of yourself

in the old silence
in the odd silence
lips

are layered
with prayers
in the shadows

just beyond
the frame
of side vision

darkness strays.
It reads you
and then stays

bending
at the waist
from far away

and if it doesn't
come further,
or get too close

you could still love it

_